For Their Safety
by idon'tedit
Summary: Hermione realizes that her parents aren't safe as war breaks out in the wizarding world, and she moves them as far from England as she can get them. She chooses the nation of Panem, without realizing what consequences there might be. What happens when the reaping comes around and it is her name that is called? Warning: character death
1. Chapter 1

_**Song for this chapter: Sparks Are Gonna Fly by The Catherine Wheel**_

I was a complete and utter idiot. I knew that, but still I had no other option than to break into Professor Snape's private store room. I had everything I needed to brew the only potion that might save my life, everything but powdered Griffin claw. And unfortunately that was not a standard ingredient, so I couldn't just permanently borrow it from the student store room. I even had a pre-brewed bottle of the strength potion that I would mix with the strengthening solution when it had finished in order to increase its potency and longevity. All I needed was that damn powdered claw and I might actually die trying to retrieve it!

I had slunk out of bed, halfway through the night, hoping that Professor Snape would be sleeping, and I made my way through the castle from Gryffindor tower down to the dungeons. I had managed to navigate the dark corridors without encountering so much a ghost. I had been so lucky, that by the time I was working my way through the wards on the classroom my heart was not even racing in my chest anymore.

The halls were silent, and all I could hear as I worked was the sound of my breathing. If it hadn't been for the inherent danger in what I was doing I might have cheered when I dropped the last ward and entered the classroom. It had taken a good fifteen minutes, but I hadn't even broken a sweat and they were Professor Snape's wards after all. It was something to be proud of.

My excitement was short lived. It was too much to assume that his wards on the classroom were the only ones. Of course when I cast a diagnostic on the door that I knew would let me into his office, and thus his private potions stores, it lit up like a Christmas tree. I bit my lip to keep from actually saying out loud that I thought he was an over protective and ridiculously suspicious git.

I listened to the sound of my breathing once more as I began disentangling the different spells from one another in order to extinguish them. There were just so many of them. Honestly did the man think his potions ingredients were the crown jewels that needed to be guarded constantly against theft? I had to stifle a laugh when I reminded myself that I was in fact attempting to steal from him.

I lightly touched the wall with my left hand as I worked my wand over the each spell. There were several that I didn't recognize, and in the back of my mind I knew that doing anything wrong while removing them would most likely send some sort of alert to Professor Snape, but I was too far in to give up now. I needed that powdered Griffin claw and I was already taking the risk, so a few unknown spells weren't going to send me away now.

I actually started to sweat a bit as I worked my way through one spell after another. The entire ordeal was silent, but it felt like a chime should have been going off with each release of a spell. I could feel the ripple of magic around me each time. Slowly, ever so slowly my success grew and brought me just a little closer to what I needed.

I sighed with relief when the last spell broke, and checked my watch, it was going on three in the morning and I had been at this for a very long time. Professor Snape was notorious for being an early riser, and I wanted to get in and out as quickly as I could before he stumbled upon me in a position guaranteed to secure me several detentions if not an expulsion.

I hurried inside, trying not to look around anymore than I had too. The many floating things still gave me the creeps, and the seemed even more disturbing at this hour. I scanned the shelves noting that the ingredients were organized alphabetically, and moved quickly to the section that held all the ingredients starting with G. The powdered Griffing claw was in the middle of a shelf far enough up that I would have to stretch for it, but not high enough to need a step ladder. I reached out for it, balancing on my tippy toes , and I felt a flare of success when my fingers closed around the jar.

"Tisk Tisk Miss Granger," his velvety voice broke the silence of the office, stopping my heart dead in my chest. "Stealing from your professor? We are in trouble aren't we?"

A rather undignified squeak slipped through my lips as I turned to face him, clutching the ingredient tightly in my hand and hoping not to vomit on the floor.

"Sir," I whispered, my heart racing in my chest as I fought to control my fear and accept whatever punishment was coming for me.

"Breaking into my private stores no less," he said arms crossed over his chest, staring down his rather prominent nose at me. "You must be aware just how many school rules you are breaking at this very moment?"

"Yes sir," I choked out, barely able to talk over the lump forming in my throat, but fighting not to cry as I realized that he would probably try to have me expelled.

"So what made powdered Griffin claw important enough to risk expulsion?" he asked sharply, though his voice did not lose the velvety tones that told me to be very afraid.

"I'm brewing a potion sir," I said, averting my eyes to the floor and bracing for the explosion.

"Obviously," he sneered uncrossing his arms and surging forward to place one hand on either side of me, backing me up against the shelf and effectively scaring the daylights out of me. "What are you brewing Miss Granger?"

"A strengthening solution," I stammered turning my head to the side so I could pretend I had a little more space then I actually did.

"And why are you brewing a strengthening solution?" he inquired, the anger of his voice almost hiding what sounded like curiosity.

"To mix in with a strengthening potion," I whispered, still attempting to shrink into the shelf and further away from him.

"And why would you do something as potentially catastrophic as that?" he asked me haughtily, thankfully backing away to fold his arms over his chest once more.

"T-to increase the strength and longevity of the base potion." I answered peeking through the hair I hadn't bothered with since it was the middle of the night to see just how angry he was.

"Were you intelligent enough to understand that you would need to remove the thorn blossom from the base potion so you don't blow your own hand off when you mix the two together," he asked, and surprisingly his voice sounded more scholastic than angry.

"Y-yes sir," I answered relieved to know my theory about explosions had been correct.

"Well then," he nodded, turning his entire focus back to my face and seeming to penetrate me with his gaze. "What need would you have for such a potent potion?"

"I just uh… need a strength potion that will last as long as I can make it," I said evasively, trying to think of anything but the real reason I needed in case the rumor that he could read minds was actually true.

"And why do you need that?" he pushed, his voice falling into the scary icy range once more.

"I just do," I forced out in a hoarse voice, knowing that I was going to get in trouble, but not wanting to tell him the truth.

"You have two choices," he snapped, and I wished he would return to the yelling as it was less scary. "You can tell me what you planned to use the potion for, or I can go to the headmaster and request your expulsion. Considering how many rules you are breaching you can guarantee the request will be granted."

I hesitate, fighting against a round of tears that threatened to break free at the thought of being expelled. Could I trust him to keep my secret? I hadn't even told the boys, but if I didn't go out on a limb and tell him he would have me expelled. I had to take the risk.

"I moved my parents out of the country," I stammered, my eyes burning with the tears that wanted to fall as I spilled my guts. "I moved them so they would be safe, but the place that I moved them to is archaic. My parents are safe, but I'm underage, and they have this festival or whatever, and I am subject to a reaping. I need the potion for if I am selected as a tribute."

He stared at me for a long time, and I wondered again if he could read my mind.

"Moving your parents was the right decision," he said quietly, and I heard the unspoken confirmation that they would not be alive if I had kept them in England. "I would however like you to further explain this festival for me."

"They call it the hunger games," I said, suddenly eager to talk and fill someone in on the horrors the muggles in Panem had created. "I don't understand why they are named that, even after reading about this historic insurrection that lead to their creation. They pick a female and a male from each of the twelve districts and send them as tribute to an arena. All of them must fight to the death, will the last survivor crowned the victor. Anyone between the ages twelve and eighteen has their name in the pool, and it there is a scrap with their name for each year they've been eligible."

I paused watching his somewhat horrified reactions as well as doing math on just how many times my name was in the pool.

"I broke wizarding law over the summer to alter a few memories, so everyone in district five, where I put my parents believes we have lived there the whole time, as well as believing that I am mentally ill, and that I am educated at home because of that," I explained. "Things are difficult there, I encouraged my parents to put my name in more often in order to obtain food rations. They are operating under the assumption that I can use magic to get out of being reaped, so they don't realize that my name is in the selection pool 59 times, and I have no way out. If they call my name I have to fight, and if I have to fight, I'd like to have somewhat of a chance. Hence the potion."

"How did you manage to convince the villagers you had always been there, a spell of that magnitude should be beyond your level, it is certainly beyond mine," he said, surprising me with his choice of subject.

"I didn't cast it on the villagers, I cast it on the house my parents live in," I explained, tugging at my wild hair as I struggled to think rationally when I was feeling so emotional. "Every time someone passes my house they have the story reinforced in their mind, so gossip does the rest of the work for me."

"Wouldn't it have been better to have convinced the villagers that your parents were childless?" he asked with an arched brow and I nearly burst into tears.

"It would have, but I spent the summer with them, so I thought it made sense for people to know I existed," I choked. "And now my name is in there so many times. If I'd realized the games existed in the beginning I might have done it differently, but I won't change it now. I won't do anything to risk their safety. So I have to win, and go through all the pomp and circumstance, because it will keep my parents safe."

"You'd do anything to keep them safe?" he said looking thoughtfully toward the ceiling.

"Of course," I snapped, before remembering who I was talking too. "Sorry sir. Yes I would do anything to keep them safe."

"Even die?" he asked pointedly, meeting my eyes once more.

"Even die," I admitted, though I wished I hadn't sounded so afraid.

"Okay, we can work with that," he said, and then he snapped to attention and began pulling ingredients off of the shelf.

"What do you mean?" I gasped, skirting to the side to get out of his way, and trying to process what was happening. "Work with what?"

"Well you can't win," he said as he set some of the ingredients on the desk. "If this is some ceremony to show the might of the government you can be sure whoever wins will be karted around to festival after festival. That's a lot of attention on you, and a lot of commitment, you would not be able to return to school if you won."

"So you're going to kill me?" I choked out, nearly losing my grip on the powdered Griffin claw.

"In a manner of speaking yes," he answered quickly as he set to work gathering the rest of his ingredients. "If you are selected I will provide you with a dose of draught of the living death. It will allow the muggles to believe you died in the arena until I am able to give you a dose of the Wiggenweld potion."

I couldn't say anything; I was absolutely floored.

"Forgive my disrespect sir, but why would you bother to get yourself so personally involved?" I asked in a barely there voice. "You don't even like me."

He turned to look at me, and his face was so shocked that I felt myself blush. Had I offended him?

"You may be a Gryffindor, and a friend of Harry Potter to boot," he said quietly as he set down the last of the ingredients. "But you are a student, and I am your professor. It is my duty to keep you safe. You honestly believe I would send you off to slaughter without batting an eye?"

"I don't know sir," I flailed, realizing that he was angry with me. "I have never considered a situation where someone found out about this. I have not considered the idea of help."

"Well consider it now," he sighed as he turned his back on me and looked at the ingredients he had gathered. "Go to bed Miss Granger. You can return in the evening to brew the altered strength potion under my supervision."

"Yes sir," I said, but I could not seem to get my feet to carry me out of the room.

"Go to bed now Miss Granger," he snapped at me, and I jumped into action, scurrying out of the office before he could yell at me again.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Song for this chapter: Gold Lion by the Yeah Yeah Yeah's**_

* * *

I could not sleep when I returned to my room up in Gryffindor tower. I sat in my bed, still holding onto the ingredient jar I had been too startled to set down, and tried to process what had just happened. I had been caught breaking into Professor Snape's private stores, and somehow not only had he not expelled me he had promised to help me get through this nightmare of a situation I found myself in. Was I sleeping right now? Was this all a dream? What was happening with my life?

I lay in my bed until I heard the other girls stirring, and then I rose and began dressing for the day. My mind was lost in a fog as I went through the motions of the day. I attended the last day of lessons before the Easter break, but I couldn't remember anything that I was supposed to have learned. I had been present in the great hall for all three meals of the day, but nothing much had passed through my lips. The day was a total loss, and by the time it was late enough to return to the potions lab to finish my brewing under Professor Snape's supervision I was exhausted and slightly disoriented.

"Miss Granger," he greeted with a nod before spelling the door closed behind me and getting down to business. "How much can you tell me about what happens after a tribute is selected?"

"They are hurried away into the hall of justice pretty quickly, and honestly I am not sure what all goes on in there," I admitted. "But I think the tributes do get visits from close friends and family before they are shuttled off to the games."

"And are they allowed to take anything with them?" he asked, and I realized what he was really trying to learn and I was horrified.

"No they are not," I gasped, the air choked from my lungs as I realized my mistake. "I am an idiot."

I sighed and dropped my head into my hands where I sat at the lab table. I was relatively certain that I was about to burst into tears at the realization that I had no choice but to go off and die.

"Perhaps too tired to see beyond the obvious," he said with only a slight sneer in his voice. "The potions will have to be concealed as things that you could conceivably be wearing on your body so they won't draw attention. It's your wand that will be the problem."

"I had already assumed that I would have to leave my wand behind." I said, lifting my head up from my hands to meet his gaze. "I've taught myself a few wandless spells, that should be subtle enough to avoid being caught on camera."

"Telling me the festival was televised would have been a good start," he sighed. "If I am going to design some trinket for you to take the potion from, it will need to be something you can access without drawing attention from the cameras."

I felt the compulsion to apologize, but I refrained. It wasn't as if I had withheld the information from him intentionally, and I wouldn't acknowledge the insinuation that I had because it would only encourage it. It was strange that some of my fear of this man had suddenly gone away.

"I'll put it in a ring," he said finally. "I can contain the potion within a false stone, and you can brush the ring against your mouth easily enough without the camera seeing what happened. You'll have to create a plausible reason for why you collapse and appear to die."

"Assuming I don't get myself killed before then," I sighed before I began robotically setting up my brewing supplies.

"Forgive me for offending you Gryffindor… sensibilities," he drawled. "But I suggest that you run, and that you hide until you can find a believable way to simulate your death."

"What happens then?" I asked him as I brought the base potion back up to temperature.

"I will intercept the delivery of your body to your parents and dose you with the antidote," he said as if it were obvious. "They do deliver the body don't they?"

"Yes, my mother met one of the families that lost a child in the games last year," I said with a shudder. "They return what is left, and it's the families choice to cremate or not."

"Enough morbidity for the moment," he sighed as he pulled out a bit of parchment that looked to have quite a few calculations scrawled on it. "You need to finish your potion, and I need a few facts in order to complete both of mine."

I nodded waiting for him to ask his questions.

"As you are a teenage girl, I'll save you the embarrassment of having to tell me the answers to these questions out loud," he said handing over the parchment and a quill. "If you could jot down your height, body weight, and approximate BMR, assuming you know it, so I can fine tune the potion to just the right level."

"Yes sir," I nodded, scooping up the quill and quickly jotting down the information he needed.

He seemed surprised by how quickly I handed over the information to him, and I wondered how he couldn't understand where I was coming from. Surely he himself had reached a level of insensitivity to teasing about physical attributes after awhile? I spent enough time being made fun of for being bookish and uninterested in my appearance, that I had little worry about someone assuming that I wasn't slim enough.

"Very well," he nodded with a slight smirk. "Get to work, and I shall do the same."

I turned back to my work and began making use of the ingredient I had stolen from him just last night while brewing the second piece to my potion. It was much easier to focus on a task when it directly related to keeping myself alive, unlike my lessons throughout the day which had been unable to hold my focus.

I noticed that while I tended to hum very lightly under my breath while working, Professor Snape was absolutely silent. But then while I moved my things about the lab quietly, he made a noise, that fell into a smooth rhythm that began to sound like a song of its own if you listened long enough. It was strange to think, considering the extreme circumstances, but I found that the idea of brewing with my professor in a private setting such as this was rather exhilarating. It was also soothing, and that unfortunately made me tired.

"Are you ready to mix?" he asked, startling me out of the reverie I had fallen into listening to him work.

"Yes, a few more stirs and they should be ready," I said over my shoulder.

"Very good." He answered somewhat distractedly. "I'd like you to mix them within a beaker for now, and leave it for me to condense into a bit of jewelry that you can wear to the tribute selection ceremony."

"Will it be ready in time?" I asked quietly. "I have to return tomorrow and the reaping is the next day."

"It will not be ready by the time you board the train," he said, finally looking up from his work to meet my gaze. "It will however be ready by the time I meet you at the train station in London and accompany you to Panem."

"Are you sure that you want to get this involved?" I asked pointedly. "I am sure there are more enjoyable things for you to do on your holiday break."

"Perhaps there are, but frankly I could use a break from the madness of our war here," he sighed, turning back to his work. "I think I will distract myself with an entirely different madness."

"If you insist," I shrugged, turning my complete attention to what I was doing so as not to spill any of the potions I had put so much work into.

* * *

The next morning I woke feeling as if I had not slept at all the night before. It didn't seem to matter that I had gotten a full eight hours as all of them seemed to have been plagued with a continual nightmare about my name being called in the reaping, and the following horrors. I drug my tired body out of bed and threw on jeans and the first jumper my hand touched. I didn't bother with my hair or anything else, it didn't really matter.

I was lost in walking nightmares about what felt like the inevitability of my name being pulled. I was vaguely aware of Harry and Ron shepherding me along toward the train with worried looks on their faces, but I couldn't seem to shake my fear enough to make conversation about the holiday break with them. Harry was the more subtle of the two, so it didn't surprise me that it was Ron who broke by the time we were mounting the loading dock at the train station.

"What's up with you today Hermione?" Ron asked rather rudely, while at the same time politely lifting my trunk into the train for me. "You're nearly as out of it as Harry was after his last lesson. Did you have a run in with Snape as well?"

I pulled up short at that question, my eyes flickering to Harry who just shrugged his shoulders.

"No Ron," I sighed. "I just don't feel well today."

"Want my jacket Mione?" Harry asked, already shrugging out of it without my answer.

I was of half a mind to say no, but I was actually very cold and I hadn't had the foresight to put a jacket on this morning. So ignoring whatever impression it might give other people I took his jacket, and quickly huddled within it. It smelled vaguely of boy, but it didn't smell too awful.

"Thanks Harry," I said, following the boys onto the train and fighting not to slip back into my distraction.

My attention to the conversation about what sweets off the trolley sounded good lasted until the train began rolling out of the station. As soon as we were moving my mind wandered to the trains that ran through Panem. My mother had told me they were like the bullet trains she and my father had seen in Japan on a trip they had taken before I was born. Would I be seated on a train that traveled much faster than this one, this time tomorrow?

* * *

It was getting dark out by the time the Hogwarts express rolled into Kings Cross station, and there was a part of me that would have liked to keep Harry's jacket because it looked like it was raining. Instead I shucked it quickly and handed it to him before casting what could be my last spell on my trunk to lighten it. I hoisted it up and turned to offer the boys a soft smile.

"Have a very good break," I told them as cheerily as I could manage.

"Yeah you too," Harry smiled as he pulled his jacket back on and grabbed his own trunk.

"I hope you feel better soon," Ron said exuberantly, perhaps even a little over-enthusiastically.

I left them too it, and slid out into the hall with the other students that were disembarking. I got jostled a bit, but there were not nearly as many students going home for the break as there would be at the end of the year, so the hallway wasn't clogged. It didn't take long for me to get off of the train, and my eyes were immediately scanning the crowd of parents.

It wasn't until my eyes had scanned all of the parents present without finding mine that I actually remembered that my parents were not present. Of course they weren't, they were in Panem where they were safe. No, I would be traveling on my own, so I might as well get on with it. I made my way out onto the platform, skirting around the families that were greeting one another and made my way over to the gate that would lead me out of platform nine and three quarters.

"Miss Granger," Professor Snape's voice said, startling me as I couldn't see anyone near me. "Keep walking forward, I am standing just beside you, but I won't remove the disillusionment charm until we are clear of your nosy peers."

"Yes sir," I whispered under my breath while surreptitiously trying to spot any shimmering from his movement as he walked with me, but I couldn't spot anything.

I backed out of the doorway leading out into the falling night, so it wouldn't be completely obvious that I was holding the door open for someone who was invisible. The parking area was surprisingly unpopulated, so when the door swung closed creating a barrier between the other students and us Professor Snape materialized. He still seemed to be a bit invisible with all of his black clothing blending into the night.

"Step into the recess here," he directed, and I followed his lead under an overhang that was likely to hide us from any security cameras that might be present. "Hold tightly to your trunk, and try not to fight the apparition too much, it's going to be a bit of a long trip."

And just like that he firmly grasped my upper arms and pulled me along with him into the void. I had never done slide-along apparition before, though I had heard it was slightly unpleasant. That didn't quite seem to cover the awful feeling of what I could only equate to being run through an old fashioned close ringer for an extended period of time. It felt as if every molecule in my body was being spun around in a tumble dryer at the same time.

An immeasurable amount of time passed, and then it finally stopped. I wobbled on my jelly legs, and gracelessly dropped my trunk on the ground. I barely had a moment to take in the mechanic landscape of district five before I retched magnificently on Professor Snape's dragon hide boots.

"I'm sorry," I coughed, wiping at my mouth and standing back up. "I'm so sorry. I didn't realize it was going to be so…"

"Have you never done slide-along before?" he asked caustically as he vanished the sick from his boots.

"No sir," I admitted, scooping my trunk back up and looking around to see how far we were from my parent's house.

"Well then," he sighed, following behind me as I began walking toward the little houses the lined the edge of the village. "I'll consider it an accomplishment that you didn't get us splinched then."

"Was that a possibility?" I gasped as my eyes drifted over to a village girl walking home, and I realized just how out of place we must look in our modern and in my case colorful clothing.

I was somewhat vainly trying to figure out if I had a rustic dress I could wear to the reaping tomorrow while Professor Snape explained just how easy it would have been for us to leave a body part behind considering how far we were traveling. He had just finished his little spiel when we came to a stop on the front step of my parent's new home. I could see them through the front window, sitting at the kitchen table enjoying a meal together. They looked peaceful and relaxed, and I knew the moment I stepped into the room and reminded them of what tomorrow meant that feeling would be stripped from them.

"They won't bite," Professor Snape said in a surprisingly kind voice from behind me. "And it's best we don't draw attention to ourselves out here."

"Right," I nodded, and then I lead him into the house.

When he door swung open my parents stopped talking, and their faces moved quickly through shock to happiness, to stress, to confusion. The last emotion told me that they had noticed I had a companion. I stepped further into the room, allowing Professor Snape to push the door closed and turned to face my parents.

"Mom, Dad," I nodded with a weak smile. "This is Professor Snape, the potion's master from my school. He's here to make sure I'm still alive at the end of the Easter Break."

"What's he going to do?" my father asked, being surprisingly rude in his choice not to greet our guest.

"If my name is called in the reaping tomorrow, he's going to help me stage my own death," I explained in the most direct manner, which seemed to amuse Professor Snape as he scoffed quietly behind me.

"You said there was no way your name would come out Hermione," my mother said, her brow contorted with anxiety.

"She lied to ensure you had food," Professor Snape interceded for me. "Now the odds of her name being called tomorrow are rather high, and I am here to assure that the risk is minimal."

"Hermione," my father said sharply, and it sounded like a reprimand, but I saw how pained he was in the tightening of his eyes. "Why would you do this?"

"Your daughter shows very little concern for herself, but plenty of it for those she cares about," Professor Snape answered before me yet again. "You should consider her well raised that she would put your wellbeing before hers."

"You expect us to smile while we send her off to slaughter?" my mother snapped at him. "That's obscene."

"As your daughter already said, I am here to help stage her death," he said in a quiet voice that I recognized as his angry voice. "As in a fake death. You will be expected to mourn her for your neighbors, but she will be returning to school shortly after, very much alive."

"So she'll be safe?" my father asked.

"Yes dad," I lied before Professor Snape could say anything else.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Song for this chapter: One Foot Wrong by Pink**_

* * *

"Miss Granger," Professor Snape's voice called me back from the fitful sleep I had been in, and I became aware of the fact that he was shaking me. "Wake up."

"What time is it?" I asked in a throaty voice, sitting up and pulling the blanket tighter around me.

"It's still a bit early in the morning," he said evasively. "But we have work to do before you can go to the reaping."

"What else is there to do?" I asked, a tightness building in my shoulder as the weight of what was to come settled upon me once more.

"We need to change your appearance," he sighed, drawing his wand. "It is a small chance, but there is still a chance that someone from our world could chance upon your image, and that would be a bit of a giveaway as to where you have hidden your parents."

"I don't know any spells for that," I grumbled, as my mind raced to think of if there was a transfiguration spell that wouldn't be permanent on my features.

"I do obviously," he sneered. "Just hold still while I work."

I did as I was told, and felt a strange itching sensation creep across my scalp and I wondered what my hair must be doing. I would have liked to have tilted my head down to try and catch a glimpse of how it was changing, but I wasn't particularly keen to be yelled at by Professor Snape this morning so I held still. The itching stopped, but then a tingle rippled over my skin.

From the corner of my eye I could see the skin of my hand fade from a warm peach to a white so pale it was almost translucent. He was right to do that of course, I was supposed to have been locked away in the house due to illness for years now, and my skin in theory had never been touched by the sun.

"This part may hurt," he warned me quietly as he placed his wand against my head, just behind my ear.

I could feel the bones in my face shifting. While it was unpleasant, it was not nearly as painful as my one experience with polyjuice potion had been. I wouldn't know for sure until I had the chance to look in the mirror, but I thought that my head had grown larger, shifting the position of my nose as well as my chin.

"You mother has put together something for you to wear that will not stand out too terribly," he said as he backed away from me, reaching into his pocket. "You should wear both of these on your person now, in case they take you directly the arena."

He handed me two pieces of jewelry, and if I weren't in such dire straits, looking to these little trinkets as the only thing that could possibly save my life, I might have been able to appreciate the aesthetically pleasing nature of them. The ring was simple, elegant, and seemed to be easily used. The band appeared to be made of silver, and nestled in the top, set flush into the band was what appeared to be a smooth white pearl shaped into a rectangle. It was beautiful, and haunting when I realized that the 'stone' was only held in place with a mild sticking charm. It would keep a muggle from removing it should my ring be inspected or stolen, but I could release the potion within with a simple finite incantatem and fake my death.

"You can produce that spell wandlessly can you not?" he asked stiffly, and I thought he might actually be nervous.

"Yes sir," I said as I slid the ring onto my finger.

I turned my attention to the necklace then, and couldn't help but smile softly when I admitted to myself that given the choice I would wear a necklace of such simple grace in everyday life. He had concealed a dose of the potent potion I had left with him in a vial of glass that had been abused in such a way that with is appeared to be cut like a gemstone. Given that the potion within was a yellow hue, the entire vial seemed to be an overlarge topaz. The top was wrapped with the chain that made up the necklace, and thus it concealed where I was certain a small cork sealed the vial. I could easily see that it was designed for me to be able to dose myself with the potion as quickly as possible without drawing attention to myself.

"Thank you sir," I said quietly as I lowered the necklace into place and tucked it inside my night shirt, much like I had done with the time turner not so many years ago.

He waved me off with a blank face and strode quickly from the room. My mother slide inside the room before the door hand swung shut and presented me with a dress and jacket that looked like it had at least been designed in the 1940's if not made then. It was odd to think that the district I had place my parents in was thrumming with electricity, and yet it was still so old fashioned. My mother looked as if she were going to burst into tears when I took the black outfit from her shaking hands.

"Hermione, you don't have to do this," she said quietly as I shucked my sleep shirt and began pulling on the dress. "We can just leave here, go somewhere safer."

"There is nowhere safe," I sighed as I smoothed the dress down and attempted to fix the grey satin bow at the hem. "And this district is so opposite of magic with all the technology being used and produced, that it may very well be the very safest place for me to hide you."

"At what cost?" she asked in a choked voice as she helped me into the matching jacket.

"At no cost," I lied yet again, brandishing the ring at her in a reminder of the plan that was supposed to keep me alive. "Do you have any shoes to go with this? My trainers would look ridiculous."

"I have a pair siting by the door," she said distractedly as she fussed with the ribbons on the front of the jacket, fastening them into a bow as well. "You hardly even look like my baby now."

I pretended not to notice that she was crying.

"It's only temporary mum," I said with a soft smile before walking over to look at myself in the mirror hanging on the closet door.

I was astonished by what I saw. It certainly wasn't me. My hair was a bright red, and fell to the middle of my back. I wondered why Professor Snape would chose red hair, but pushed it from my mind as I took in my new face. It was alien and strange, and made my stomach tight with discomfort. I wouldn't have to worry about anyone recognizing me, I did not recognize myself, especially when dressed in such a strange manner.

There was a chiming sound that echoed from somewhere outside of the house, and I knew instinctually that it was meant as a summons to everyone in the district.

"The reaping will be soon," I said quietly, and I saw my mother's reflection nod her head while she dabbed at her tears.

I could feel my heart rate accelerate at the very thought of it, but I kept pulling long deep breaths into my lungs in an effort to stave off the panic. I took my mother's hand and brought her with me as I walked into living room where Professor Snape stood beside my father at the window, watching what I assumed to be the masses heading to the center of town.

"It' time," my mother said in a rough voice, and my father's attention snapped to us.

"I don't even recognize you," he gasped. "Where is my little Mimi?"

"Dad!" I groaned, pointedly not looking at Professor Snape as I felt myself blush. "The point is for me to look different."

"Well good job then," he said with a forced laughed. "Now you'll just a bit of drool so all the neighbors believe you're crazy."

I stifled a snotty response and wondered if I should do something odd. Did it matter if they believed I was ill now? For all they knew I would either show up and then return home quietly, or be selected and then appear to die. Would the care whether or not I was actually crazy?

"Just refuse to speak," Professor Snape offered helpfully from where he stood still looking out the window. "The majority of humanity finds it extremely disconcerting if a person refuses to speak, and will thus believe you are in fact mentally ill."

I was about to thank him when I stopped myself and simply nodded. If I was going to give up speaking, I should probably start practicing now.

"The flow of traffic toward the town center is slowing," Professor Snape noted, turning to look at my parents and me. "I think it's time we make our way to the reaping."

I nodded again and hurried over to the door to slide on the basic black dress shoes my mother had set out for me. They were terribly uncomfortable, but then I had stopped sharing a shoe size with her last year, and shoes that were too small were always uncomfortable.

"Your wand," Professor Snape said somberly, extending his hand, and I reluctantly placed my vine wood companion in his palm. "I shall keep it safe."

I nodded and turned my attention to the door once more. I knew that my parents would be hesitant about going, so I pulled on my Gryffindor bravery and threw open the front door and stepped out onto the porch forcing them to follow me.

The walk to the center of town was physically short, but it felt far too long. I felt as if I were on a death march, but I tried not to let it show on my face. I continued to pull in long calming breaths and put one foot in front of another until suddenly we were there. My parents and professor Snape were shunted off to the side with the other adults, and I was sent to join the massive crowd of young adults that were eligible for the reaping.

I could smell the fear around me, and while I felt a sense of solidarity it did nothing to calm my nerves. The line moved slowly forward as one after another we were all checked in and sent to stand with those of our gender who were also waiting to hear their fate. I thought perhaps this experience would be easier if I actually knew the people standing beside me. Instead I felt so terribly alone. I wished that Harry or Ron could be here with me, if only to make me feel the tiniest bit safer.

The crowd fell quiet around me as a man dressed in a cherry red suit with a matching crown of hair pulled into a bun took the stage. I was far enough back that I couldn't make out his features very well, but if his clothes were any indication, I was rather certain his face would be plastered with makeup. I was unsure of if this was customary dress for people of the capitol, or if this man was a transvestite.

He began to speak, and it was so obviously an accent that I wanted to gag. He sounded like an American who was attempting to sound British and if I weren't so terrified I might actually laugh at him. He launched into a story about the uprising that destroyed North America, and tore life here asunder. He was over-dramatic in his retelling of how the nation was rebuilt into Panem, and looked on the verge of tears when he professed the goodness of the capitol for their forgiveness and the institution of the Hunger Games. He was a flaming red zealot, and he made me sick to my stomach.

"It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks," the man concluded with a beaming smile that showed off teeth that seemed to catch far too much sunlight and reflect it back.

He began to list the victors that the district had the honor of claiming, and as their names were said each man and woman stood from their seat on the stage and offered the crowd a slight nod before returning to their seat. I forgot their names as soon as they were spoken, they meant nothing to me other than a sign that it was possible to survive the games.

"It is time, and as always, may the odds be ever in your favor," he said with a sickening grin as he approached the two glass bowls that sat center stage. "Ladies first."

He dropped a hand, that I could see had red lacquer on its nails, into the bowl and swished it around in what he probably thought of as a playfully theatric movement. To me it felt as if he were increasing the torture he inflicted upon all of us waiting to hear our fate.

After far too long showing off, he plucked a little white piece of paper out of the bowl and brought it closer to his face. He unfolded it with a flourish of showmanship and took a moment to read the name aloud.

"Hermione Granger," he said to the crowd, and for a moment I only cringed at the butchering of my name before the weight of it being said settled upon me.

I saw the other girls in the crowd searching for who amongst their midst was named Herm-e-on, and eventually through the process of elimination their eyes began to settle on me. I drew a deep breath, straightened my back, and began to walk forward to meet my fate. I thought that the girls might have been whispering, but I could not hear them over the sound of my heart pounding in my chest. The world dwindled down to the sensation of sweat breaking out on my skin, air rushing through my lungs, and my heart giving up the fight in hiding my fear.

It was far too easy to play the role of the mentally ill when I was so afraid. The man in red, who I could now see had silver caps on all of his teeth, asked me questions, but I was too tongue tied to answer them even if I had wanted to. He called for applause, and there was a polite smattering of it, but I ignored them as the sound of my heart seemed to grow even louder.

I was lost in my own world as he selected a boy with dark brown hair and a vaguely Asian look to him. If I had to guess I'd say he was about fifteen He had a strong look to him, and I wondered if I should be afraid of him but there didn't seem to be room for that fear. I was too full of the panic that had ensued when my name had actually been called to make room for anything else.

There was another bit of polite applause and then the two of us were swept up by the red man into the justice building and shunted into separate rooms. I stared at the wood paneled room with old uncomfortable looking couches, and wondered what this room was for. I sat down heavily on one of the couches, and leaned forward so that my head was between my legs and I attempted to bring my breathing back to a somewhat regular rhythm to stave off a full blown panic attack.

I had only been positioned that way for about a minute when the door flew open, smacking into the wall and causing me to jump. I snapped into a sitting position and saw my cry parents barreling toward me. My father pulled me into a bone crushing hug and held me there while my mother wrapped her arms around both of us. They were both crying, but I found my eyes were dry. It seemed I didn't have any tears in me at the moment; I was too stunned by the possibility of my own death to cry.

"I love you both, so much," I said, my voice muffled by my father's chest.

"We love you to Mimi," my father said brusquely, squeezing me so tightly that it nearly hurt.

"Try to win baby," my mother cried as a man in a white uniform broke up the moment.

"Time is up," he said rudely, and my parents were forced to leave.

I felt weak in the knees as I was left swaying on my feet in the absence of my father's hug. I watched their retreating backs and finally felt the sting of tears, but I bit my lip against them and silently prayed that this would keep my parents safe.

The door had almost latched closed when it was pushed open again, and I was looking into the dark eyes of Professor Snape once more. He quickly closed the door and cross over to stand near enough to be to be comforting without crossing any line of propriety. I was struck in that moment by the sheer enormity of his presence and what it meant about him that he was here with me now. He was not the man everyone thought he was that much I was certain of.

"You have proven that you were supposed to have been sorted into Gryffindor by holding your composure and walking bravely into the face of danger in order to protect your family," he said in his velvety voice, soothing my nerves and making me feel a sense of home that was not so emotional as the one my parents gave me. "Now is the time to demonstrate the traits of other houses, of which you also possess. Call on the friendship of Hufflepuff and do not take the life of another child in that arena, for it will cost you too much when it is all said and done. Call upon the intelligence of Ravenclaw and use the gifts it brings to find the resources provided by the game maker to protect yourself. And most of all wrap yourself in the cunning of Slytherin and do whatever it take to keep yourself alive until the time comes that you can fake your own death."

"Yes sir," I nodded, finally reigning in the tears that wanted to fall, and bringing my breathing back under control.

The man in the white suit showed up again, glanced at the two of us standing silently staring at one another, and gestured with his head that it was time for Professor Snape to leave. He turned on his heal, less dramatic when he wasn't wearing his robes, and swept out of the room. It settled upon me then that I would have to face this alone. He had helped me in every way that he could, but now it was up to me whether I lived or died.

Oddly enough the poem Invictus by William Ernest Henley that was running through my mind as I was partnered up with the boy from by district and marched on board one of the bullet trains by two men dressed in their foreboding white uniforms. I spared one baleful glance at the man covered in red who sat in a lounge with a man and woman who I was should have remembered the names of as they were both victors, before I slid into a train compartment that I was claiming as mine. I sat down on the bed in my room and began to recite just two lines of the poem aloud over and over again

_I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul._


	4. Chapter 4

_**Song for this chapter: Freaks by The Hawk In Paris**_

* * *

Bullet trains traveled much more quickly than the Hogwarts express, and though I would have liked it to take longer we arrived rather quickly in the capitol. My estimation of the distance between where I had hidden my parents, and where the capitol was located was just slightly further than the distance between London and Hogwarts. That train ride normally took an entire day, but today traveling a longer distance the trip only took a few hours.

I hadn't even met my mentor or my fellow tribute from district five, and already I was being herded off of the train and into an intimidating combination of a locker room and a medical facility. I was met by the most disturbing man I had ever seen and a woman who seemed slightly more approachable. The man was wearing a shinning silver hat that thankfully hid most of his lime green hair, but there was a triangle of it hanging in the middle of his forehead that drew my attention.

His skin was pale like mine now was, but his cheekbones where either heavily covered in blush or the skin itself had been colored to create green skin that I suppose matched his hair in a way. Underneath the glaring green it seemed his facial structure was actually appealing, but the entire look was made incredibly disturbing by the contacts he were wearing that made his eyes completely white save for his pupils. It was only the black scrubs he was wearing that showed he was paired with his female companion. Though the scarf he wore with them looked extremely odd.

Instead she seemed almost normal in comparison. Her hair was a simple brown, even if it was woven into an extravagant updo. Her skin was blessedly uncolored, and the most garish color on her face was a magenta lip stain. The only feature that made a wave, was the featherlike long black lashes that were framing her warm brown eyes. Where her partner looked inhumane, she looked like a young woman in a Halloween costume.

"Come," the man said, grabbing the sleeve of my jacket and pulling me over to a metal table. "Remove your clothing."

"I'm sorry, he has no manners," the girl said. "My name is Florania, and this mongrel is Vespasian. We will be prepping you to meet your stylist, Gaius."

"Manners or not, remove your clothing," Vespasian said with a bored look on his face.

I was mortified, but I hastened to follow his instructions. When I was standing before them completely starkers, I felt awkward with my necklace on, so I removed it and held it tightly in my left hand where my ring still rested. I pointedly did not make eye contact with either of them as Florania stood pensively before me tapping her lip and Vespasian walked slowly around me with his brows furrowed in concentration.

"Your skin is flawless, but your body could use work," Vespasian said from behind me in a cold voice. "Though I suppose the extra weight could keep you warm in the arena."

I couldn't help it, my eyes snapped down to my body. What extra weight? Sure I wasn't some waif but I wasn't a slob either was I? I was filled with the urge to wrap my arms around my body and hide whatever flaws he saw.

"Their called curves," Florania snapped before turning a reassuring smile on me. "We're just not used to getting girls with a figure out of district five is all."

"She'll need a waxing, but she is very clean," Vespasian said a bit more kindly. "We should only need to buff her once."

"Climb on the table please," Florania smiled before extending her hand out to me. "I'll hold onto your bauble until we're done."

I was hesitant to trust her, but there was something about the soft smile and gentle encouragement she was offering me while I was completely exposed calmed me enough to hand over the necklace. I hesitated again, but I did eventually hand her the ring as well. Did she have any idea that she had my entire future tucked away in her pocket?

I realized why I never participated in any of the nonsense Parvati and Lavender put themselves through for beauty when those two began working on me. They waxed away every bit of body hair I had, and it was excruciatingly painful. I hardly felt the plucking my eyebrows in the wake of such burning pain. Florania worked some sort of magic on my hair so that it was silky and beautiful, even if it wasn't my real hair, while Vespasian buffed my skin with some body scrub that exfoliated a few layers of skin off.

The entire thing seemed barbaric, but when I stood before them once more, my red hair was a little darker and much more appealing, and my body seemed to almost glow with newness. There was no denying it, they had made me look more attractive. That however did not make me anymore comfortable with the idea of standing before them without a stitch of clothing on. Florania handed me my jewelry back and then the two of them walked swiftly from the room leaving me standing exposed and very alone.

No sooner had the door closed behind them it flew open once more revealing a man with the palest black skin I had ever seen, though it was overshadowed by his vibrant blue hair, and metallic green eye shadow. When he came closer I noticed that he swayed as he walked and that his eyes were a dark turquoise that looked unnatural. He was leering at me as he closed the last bit of distance between us, and came to a stop just two feet away from me. It felt far too close when I didn't have any clothing on.

"They did good work on you," he breathed, pushing my hair behind my shoulder.

His breath washed over me and I realized that he had been drinking, quite a bit if the smell was any indication. I couldn't hide the little shudder that rolled through me, and that only seemed to make him smile more broadly.

"Just put on your robe," he sneered, nodding his head toward what appeared to be a robe made out of blue paper hanging on the wall behind me. "Don't act like some sort of wilted flower, that's not something I can work with."

I hastened to follow his instructions, and I did feel a bit better when most of my body was hidden even if the robe was incredibly uncomfortable. I kept my jewelry clutched tightly in my hand as he directed me to sit on the metal table once more, and he swayed on his feet before me seemingly lost in thought until he met my gaze.

"Your district is always difficult to costume," he complained. "But this year I think I have come up with a winner. For the chariot ride tonight I am going to dress you in a costume reminiscent of a fiber optic wire. I don't really want you in makeup or anything special, it's about showcasing the clothing."

I just nodded my head. I couldn't tell if he was self-centered or if the ceremony tonight really was about showcasing clothing. I didn't really care. I just had to get through whatever ceremony they threw at me, and then I would try to find a way through the games, and then hopefully I would be going home.

"There's a little time until we need to start getting you ready," he said, the wind seeming to go out of his sails when he realized I wasn't going to argue with him. "There is food in the side room, you can eat a bit while you wait, but try not to eat too much, you're already pushing the limits with the curves there."

I couldn't help but think he was an arsehole as he stomped away, leaving me sitting on the edge of the table by myself. I took a moment to return my jewelry to its proper place before sliding off the table and following the path Gaius had walked to leave the room.

* * *

After sitting awkwardly in the room full of extravagant food by myself for an hour or so my team of stylists returned and set to work transforming from an apparently dumpy girl to a fiber optic wire. It was a ridiculous process, but not nearly as ridiculous as the dress I was zipped into. The only thing I liked about the dress was that I could hide my necklace under it, so I didn't have to hand it over to Florania once more.

The whole getup was silver with sequins attached to every bit of it. Including the hood of the dress that made me look absolutely stupid. They had slicked my hair back to hide it within the hood, and it made me wonder why they had bothered making my hair look nice to begin with. Gaius and Vespasian seemed to have a different idea of what no makeup meant was drastically different, and though I appeared not to be wearing any makeup layers of it were caked onto my face as well as my arms. It made me look even paler than I had before, and I couldn't help but notice that my partner tribute seemed to be darker than he had been just this morning.

I wondered vaguely what the point in all that was, but we were being loaded into the back of a chariot and suddenly all I could think about was how easy it would be to fall out of the back and possibly kill myself before any of this really even got started. I clutched the front of the chariot nervously and watched as we flew past a screaming crowd. They seemed to pay my chariot attention for only a moment, and then suddenly their cheers rose and their focus travelled backward. I was perfectly fine with that, I wanted to be out of this contraption as soon as possible and focused on my own attention entirely on our destination before the giant platform a man with white hair resided on.

When our chariot had stopped, I caught a glimpse of what had drawn the crowds attention, and perhaps if I did not come from a school of witchcraft and wizardy I would have been impressed by the fake flames the tribute from district twelve were wearing. They did look spectacular in comparison to the idiotic dress I was wearing, but these games weren't about being pretty they were about trying to stay alive.

I stared down at the ring on my hand while the man I realized via introduction was President Snow made some opening remarks about the games. There was another roaring round of applause, and then the damnable chariot was moving once more pulling us into an enclosed area that looked like an overly decorated loading dock. The man in red that had done the reaping in our district swept over to our chariot and offered me a hand in climbing down, which I was grateful for as the dress pooled at me feet in a way that made it nearly impossible to walk in. I still wasn't entirely sure of his name, but he was the first gentleman I had met all day so I offered him a tense smile.

"Meet your mentor Miss Granger," he said as he swept me over to a woman with lank black hair and a scar running from her hairline to her chin, just missing the corner of her eye.

"Sylvia," she said extending her hand out to me and gripping mine a little too tightly when I shook it.

"Hermione," I answered, affecting the best Panem accent I could, and only really managing to sound like I had a speech impediment to my own ears.

"I'll be your mentor for the duration of the games," she said as she wrapped her arm around my shoulder and quickly leading me away from the rest of the group. "My job is simple, I need to get you whatever I can to try and keep you alive. Try not to make my job too difficult alright?"

I probably should have been offended by her phrasing, but she actually seemed pretty nice. If she was going to be able to send me help in the arena then I wanted to keep her happy, so I wasn't going to do anything to upset her. It helped with trusting her, that she actually looked a little bit like Professor Snape.

"You have a choice of training with your fellow tribute or on your own," she said as she ushered me into an elevator. "He's got a mean look to him though, and I wouldn't trust him not to turn on you during the bloodbath. I recommend training on your own."

I nodded my head, watching the doors to the elevator slide shut before the other district five tribute, his mentor, or our escort could join us in the elevator. Sylvia's demeanor seemed to shift the second the door slid shut, her shoulders slumped into a relaxed position and she stepped away from me while offering me a soft smile.

"I'm not good at actual combat training, so you drew the short stick there," she explained quickly, while running her hand through her hair. "I'm excellent at stealth however, so I can help you there. I am not awful at work the sponsors, so I should be able to get you help in the arena. Your job is to not get killed."

"Sounds simple enough," I said sarcastically, forgetting entirely to sound like I was from Panem.

"I thought you had an accent," she chuckled. "I don't know what that's about, but we need to school that before the interviews. That's not the type of attention you want on you. If in doubt don't speak at all."

I nodded my head, finding it ironic that this woman who resembled my professor so much was giving me the exact same advice he had. I was still pondering the strange situation I found myself in when the elevator door opened to reveal on opulent apartment where a feast was waiting on the table to be eaten.

"Do you have a trinket you want me to get approved by the game makers for you to wear it into the arena?" she asked me as she ushered me toward the table.

My instincts were at war, but in the end I handed over the fake opal ring with a firm nod.

"I'll get it back to you as soon as possible," she said as she looked the ring over.

She didn't seem at all suspicious of it, so I took that as a good sign.

"Sit down and eat up." She directed as she took a seat at the table. "We want to get as much weight on you as we can before we send you into the arena. You're sure to lose weight in there, and frankly you don't have much to lose right now."

I tried to swallow it, but I couldn't help but scoff at that. Here I had people telling me I was too fat, and then there were others telling me I wasn't fat enough. This town was insane. I shook my head in confusion and joined her at the table just as the elevator opened once more letting the rest of the district five people into the apartment.

I listened quietly to the strategy talk between the boy and his mentor while my own mentor and the man in red who I worried I would never actually learn the name of talked about the crop of sponsors for this game. I stuck with the tactic of not speaking while I worked my way through a dish I didn't recognize that tasted like it had duck in it.

* * *

I had assumed that Sylvia would spend the day training with me, so when I was sent down to the training center in my strange black and red outfit all by my lonesome I was extremely confused. I kept working the mute angle and didn't speak to any of the other tributes. Instead I avoided them entirely as I spent my time roving between the training stations most likely to keep me alive. I learned to tie knots, build snares, and find water.

My evenings were spent closeted away with Sylvia where she talked to me about different places to hide. We discussed strategies for finding food and shelter, and anything that would keep me alive while I hid from the other tributes. I was happy that she seemed to be thinking along the same lines as me, so I didn't have to explain that I had no intention of killing anyone while I was in the arena.

I took Sylvia's words to heart, and at every meal I ate as much as I could force my stomach to take, and I did notice that I was gained a bit of weight as I worked my way through the two weeks of training we were offered before being sent off to slaughter. She assured me my chances were better if I had fat to burn, and continually beat it into me to find water as soon as possible and to worry about food as a secondary need.

My survival skills grew as I worked through the different stations in the training center, and while I was still unable to wield a sword or shoot a bow and arrow, I was confident that I could hide somewhere and survive as long as I needed to until I found a way to pass of an accidental death with the sleeping potion. By the end of the first week I was no longer worried about that accidental death, because my ring had been returned to me. Sylvia told me that they had been hesitant about allowing me to wear the jewelry into the arena and she had made up a story about it being my engagement ring and having far too much meaning to me to be left behind. I was grateful enough for her getting the ring pushed that I wasn't too upset about having to concoct a love story should I be asked about it in the upcoming interviews.

Sylvia also coached me on how to get through the interviews, and we decided the angle I should go with was intelligence. So in addition to practicing an accent she coached me on using big words. I found it a bit laughable, but I played along. Intelligence was an angle I could work with, it was my actual personality after all.

* * *

The two week window drew to an end, and suddenly I was faced with my two biggest challenges. The first was the private meeting with the judges. I was faced with the opportunity to demonstrate the skills I could use in the arena only to realize that there was nothing provided in the training room that would allow me to demonstrate my ability to disappear. I was going to have to demonstrate some sort of skill for them and I was flummoxed as to what to do.

When my name was called my heart started racing in my chest. I still didn't have a plan when I walked into the empty training room. At the last second I made a rash decision, and I used wandless magic to cast a subtle cheering charm on the room at large. Without my wand it wasn't very strong, but I did notice a sense of general happiness falling over the crowd of sponsors watching. When I saw that everyone seemed to be smiling, I got to work showing off the only skill that seemed easy to demonstrate.

I gathered up some of the supplies from the snare building station and set to work building a fire in the middle of the training room floor. I built it quickly, and within about two minutes I had a cheery flame going for them to see, but the group did not seem all that impressed. If it weren't for the cheering charm that I had cast I was sure they would have laughed me out of the room already. The only other solution I could think of was to demonstrate how quickly I could disappear if I was somehow threatened by another tribute. So I put out of the flames, casting a subtle wandless disillusionment charm on the smoke, so I seemed more skilled at hiding my presences than I actually was, before silently slipping from the room.

* * *

I was unsure of how successful I had been that night when we watched the televised ceremony that gave all of our estimated potential scores. The boy from my district was given an eight which was a respectable number, and his stylists cheered for him when it was displayed on the screen. I was given a five which was lower than the halfway mark of scores. Sylvia seemed pleased with my score however and clapped me on the back with a beaming smile.

"Just keep it up girl," she whispered as she lead me away from the group in the living room and ushered me off to bed. "Five means none of the tribute with think you are a threat."

She left me standing at my bedroom door and went slipped off to her own room. I breathed a sigh of relief and slipped into my bedroom, closing the door behind me. I had been flying blind, but clearly I had made the right choice. If none of the other tribute thought I was a threat, they might not come after me, and if they didn't come after me I wouldn't be put in a position to fight for my life.

I sat on my bed in the dark, holding my necklace tightly in my hand and trying to keep myself calm. There was just one more day left. I had to get through the last bit of training with Sylvia, another meeting with my stylists, who I had thankfully been able to avoid for days, and then the televised interviews. It was odd to think it, but getting through those things seemed to be the hard part. I was confident that hiding in the arena wasn't going to be nearly as trying as tomorrow would be.

* * *

Sylvia never woke me for a morning of training with her. I was utterly confused when she woke me up just before lunch and told me to throw on some clothing and head down to eat lunch with the other tributes.

"What?"" I asked groggily, though I managed to keep my accent up. "We were supposed to train."

"You already have the skills that will keep you alive in the arena," she said pointedly as she tossed an outfit at me. "It's all about the social game today, and so long as you don't slip back into your accent you won't draw any attention to yourself which is exactly what we want. So I let you sleep in, because I doubt you are going to get much sleep tonight, and I don't want you to be a complete zombie when you show up in that arena tomorrow."

For the first time I wondered if following her approach was the right way to stay alive, but it was too late now. She left me sitting in alone once more, so I tossed on the outfit she had given me while thinking about what I should do. I didn't trust her nearly as much as I trusted the advice professor Snape had given me. So as I made my way down to the cafeteria for lunch I thought about the last piece of advice I had been given from him. I didn't even taste my lunch as I ran through the attributes of each of the houses at Hogwarts and how using those traits was going to keep my body and mind intact when I came out of the arena.

* * *

"Was it impossible for you to avoid gorging yourself?" Gaius snapped when I was ordered to strip out of the simply pants and cardigan I had been wearing. "I mean really how do you expect me to work with this? You must have gained at least five pounds over the last two weeks."

I stifled any snarky reply I might want to deliver, and attempted to look contrite. It was abundantly clear that he was only concerned with how his clothing would look tonight on television. Frankly if he was going to dress me how he had in the first ceremony it wouldn't matter if I had gained one hundred pounds I was going to look awful either way. So I refused to allow him to injure my self-esteem and simply waited for him to present the outfit he wished me to wear tonight.

Vespasian and Florania arrived with a garments bag and beauty products in tow and immediately set to work while Gaius watched on with unfocused eyes. I wondered vaguely how drunk he was tonight as Florania helped me into the dress he had made. It was surprisingly tasteful, and the light turquoise color looked nice against the pale skin professor Snape had given me. It also draped nicely over the small amount of weight I had put on, which pleased Gaius enough that he ordered a drink for himself in celebration. I attempted not to roll my eyes while Vespasian fasted a tied hemp choker around my neck.

I stopped focusing on the world around me as my hair was teased into a curly design that fell down my back as well as into my face. Florania seemed to be talking to me the entire time she worked with my makeup, but I paid her little attention. Instead I thought about what questions I might be asked in just a short time, and tried to formulate answers I could give.

Soon enough I had my shoes on, my hair and makeup done, my dress on, and I was being ushered into a hallway alongside all of the other tributes. I nervously rubbed my finger along my ring in a soothing gesture while I thought of my necklace tucked away safely in my bedroom five floors up. I had wanted to wear it tonight, so I could keep tabs on it, but in the end keeping the ring on me was more important, and I had seriously doubted that Gaius would let me wear my own jewelry tonight.

The line of tributes ahead of me slowly dwindled while I tried to stay calm and focus on how these people pronounced their words. I reminded myself again and again as I moved closer to my turn that all that mattered tonight was sounding intelligent and not sounding at all British. I tried not to worry about the questions, or the audience that would be watching. I tried not to worry about anything, but frankly I felt like I was about to walk into an exam for a class I had never attended.

"You all know her as the shy girl from district five," I heard the man I had been told was Cesear Flickerman say from the stage, and I began to mount the stairs. "Please welcome to the stage Miss Hermione Granger."

I took a deep breath and stepped out onto the stage making a point not to look out at the audience, and focusing only on the man waiting for me over in the chairs. I was torn between being grateful that man providing me with an easy escape from being too entertaining by calling me the shy girl, and being disgusted to discover that his hair was the exact same color as the miscreant who called himself my stylist.

"Welcome welcome," he said with a beaming smile that showcased his perfect white teeth that I couldn't help but notice. "Hermione, tell me, are you nervous?"

"Dreadfully so," I admitted, focusing on my enunciation instead of on how truly nervous I was.

"Do you have a plan for when you enter the arena tomorrow?" he asked, still flashing that beaming smile.

"You can be assured that I do," I said offering a soft smile of my own, that I hoped came off as secretive rather than sick to my stomach.

He let loose a barking laugh, and I almost wanted to laugh with him it was just that contagious.

"You are a sly one aren't you?" he chuckled. "Tell me this then Miss Granger, is the rumor about that ring on your finger true? Is that an engagement ring on your hand?"

"Yes it is Mister Flickerman," I answered quickly, without providing detail.

"Oh don't be coy now, give us a name," he prodded.

I had thought long and hard about this question. There were very few people I knew watching this right now, at least that was what I assumed, but even knowing that I still didn't want to reveal who I might actually have an interest in. I had debated just saying professor Snape's name, but I worried about what he and my parents might think while I said that, so ultimately I had thrown out that option as well. In the end I had decided to use a name only my parents had a chance of recognizing.

"Daniel Wagner," I said with another secretive smile.

"Did you get a chance to say goodbye to Mr. Wagner before you were swept away to the games?" he asked with a serious face, though I suspected it was for the audiences benefit not mine.

"No I didn't," I lied in as breathy a voice as I could manage, realizing in the moment that painting myself as the sad lonely tribute could only help me at this point.

I needed to looked pitiful, so I went for the full effect. I bite my lower lip and I forced myself to look as teary as possible as I glanced out at the audience and hugged my arms around my torso. I saw Sylvia offer me two thumbs up and I knew I had made the right choice. Flickerman leaned in to place his hand gently on my knee and offered me an encouraging smile.

"Well just think about what a great reunion it will be if you win these games," he offered warmly, and I nodded while still forcing the fakest tears I had ever cried to fall down my cheeks. "Ladies and Gentleman Hermione Granger."

The cheering from the crowd erupted once more, I shook Flickerman's hand, and then I hurried off the stage. I knew that Sylvia was still sitting in the audience, and there was no one else that I wanted to talk to in the hallway filled with the remaining tributes, so I hurried past them and took the first available elevator back up to the district five apartment.

It was blissfully quiet, as all of the stylists were still downstairs watching the interviews, my fellow tribute was still being interview, and the mentors were both in the crowd. I had no idea where our district escort was, but he didn't seem to be present in the apartment so I felt blissfully alone. I hid away in my bedroom and quickly shed the stupid outfit that I had been paraded around in, and slipped back into the pajamas that had been provided for me. I didn't feel completely calm until the necklace was firmly in place around my neck once more.

I had already created a nest of blankets and pillows on my bed when I heard the others begin arriving in the apartment. It sounded like they were celebrating, so I assumed that the other interview had gone well. I heard someone congratulating him, and it was only then that I realized his name was Micah. It seemed odd that it would take me until the eve of the very real threat of the two of us ending up in a battle to the death that I would finally learn his name. Would Micah try to kill me tomorrow?

I was pondering that question when Sylvia slipped into my room with a mug in her hand. She didn't turn on the light, or even greet me. She just walked over to the bed, handed me the mug, and slipped back out of the room. The mug was warm to the touch, and when I lifted it to my nose and sniffed it I couldn't help but smile. She'd brought me warm milk. She was still so worried about me getting enough sleep before I went off to face my death. I couldn't help but chuckle to myself as I drank the milk. Sleep wasn't going to matter much once I was thrown into the blood bath, and though it hopefully wouldn't be real, the only way I was leaving that arena was as a dead body.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Song for this chapter: Make It Stop (September's Children) by Rise Against**_

* * *

I was awake long before the oddly silent servant girl came to knock on my door. I gave her a brief nod to acknowledge that I knew I needed to be present in the front room soon, and then I slide out of bed. It was just a few hours until she would be shuttled into the arena, and expected to fight for her life, and this moment right here, was likely the only moment I had left to be by myself. It was time.

I pulled the necklace Professor Snape had given me from beneath my nightgown, and stared at the yellow potion for a moment before I pulled the stopper loose. Frankly the potion smelled awful, but I tossed it back in one long pull anyway. It tasted awful, but I knew my brew had been right almost instantly, as a foreign strength began spreading through my limbs.

I had never been very athletic, but suddenly I felt that it was entirely conceivable that I could run several miles without growing tired. It seemed likely I could lift more than my body weight, and hold my own if I were to end up in a fight. I only intended to utilize the ability to run, but it eased some of the cloying fear that was choking my throat.

I tried to hold onto that little bit of calm, and made my way out to the common room. I didn't see much point in getting dressed into something other than my night clothes, when I was about to be shipped off to my stylist who would dress me in what could theoretically be the last outfit I ever wore. Sylvia was standing by the elevator door waiting for me, so I attempted to offer her a smile. It felt more like a grimace though.

"Just remember," she said quietly as she ushered me into the elevator. "You don't have to fight to win, you just have to stay alive."

I nodded, watching the dial in the elevator roll past each floor as we made our way to the rooftop.

"If the question is fight or flight," she went on as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. "The answer is always flight."

I nodded, and attempt to swallow over the lump that was growing in my throat as I thought about climbing into that hover craft that was waiting for me. She gave me a comforting squeeze on the shoulder, and gestured for me to go on without her. She stayed in the elevator, and I hurried over to the hover craft, holding my night gown in place when the air from the craft attempted to blow it up and expose me. I wasn't particularly worried about Sylvia, but I had a feeling Gaius would be watching from inside, and the less he saw of me the better.

* * *

I was sequestered in a room with another table full of food and drink, with none other than Gaius. I wished desperately hat Florania had been sent instead, so at least I would be comfortable eating the last fulfilling meal I was being offered for an undetermined amount of time. Instead I stared longingly at the food, while sipping a glass of water, and avoiding Gaius's gaze. He spent most of the ride simply glaring at the food on the table, as if accusing it of ruining his costuming.

He did not speak a word to me as the hover craft landed, and he stood, gesturing in annoyance for me to follow him. I hopped to my feet and followed after him, wondering if I was the only one in the hover craft or if I would catch a glimpse of any of the other tributes before we entered the arena.

The answer was apparently no, when Gaius herded me into a small room without any sight of another tribute. He stood beside the door looking ominous, as a man in white stepped into the room and approached me with a dangerous looking apparatus in his hand. It was silver and it looked like some strange combination of a syringe and a gun.

"Present your arm," he said gruffly.

"What is that?" I asked as I extended my arm before him against my better judgment.

"Your tracking device," he said bluntly.

He shoved the overlarge needlepoint into my arm and I had the distinct impression that I should have been in pain, and found I was already quite grateful for the strengthening potions. For a moment light flickered beneath the skin of my arm, but then it flickered out, and other than a small pinprick my am looked as if nothing had happened. I looked up from my arm just in time to see the white man disappearing, and Gaius pushing the door closed.

"The outfits provided for all of the tributes to wear in the arena don't give much away," he said in a quiet voice that sounded polite for the first time. "They aren't exactly stylish either, but it should at least keep you warm should you need it."

He then began presenting me with the most acceptable bit of clothing I had ever seen path through his hands. There were dark brown boots, greenish brown cargo pants, a sort of dirty red tshirt, and a deep maroon jacket with black piping. He seemed less than pleased with it, but I was happy to be provided with semi comfortable clothing that looked like it could withstand the elements. The only negative I could find was camouflage, I couldn't think of any environments where maroon was easily hidden.

I ignored Gaius and began trading my nightmare for the clothing I would be wearing in the arena. I noticed that they didn't actually provide undergarments with the arena uniform, so I was grateful that I had slept with a sports bra on the night before. The boots were apparently already broken in, so I let the worry over blisters slip from my mind. As I pulled on the jacket I saw that the inside was black, and made a mental note to switch the jacket inside out at the first opportunity. Wearing a black hood over my red hair seemed a good idea as well.

It was as I was pushing my arms through the sleeves of the jacket that the countdown began. A cool female voice instructed me to enter the tube over the sound of a male voice counting down from thirty. I spared a glance at Gaius who was sitting at the table with his eyes closed, looking for all the world like he had a hangover, and then I stepped into the tube.

The doorway sealed immediately behind me with a sucking sound, leaving me feeling suffocated in the tiny space. I tried to keep my breathing under control as I stood stock still listening to the count draw down. At ten seconds till the end, the platform started moving, and within seconds I was standing in the arena, blinking into the bright sunshine. There seemed to be too much sound as the clock ticked down, and I tried to gather my bearings. I was aware of the other tributes on pedestals nearby me, as well as the cornucopia full of weapons before me, but my mind was focused on the line of trees in the distances. That was where I wanted to be.

The countdown ended, and the most eager tributes raced forward to grab their weapons. I launched myself off of my pedestal and sprinted in the opposite direction. I could hear chaos ensuing almost immediately, but I didn't look back, I just ran flat out toward the trees, putting as much distance between myself and the others as I could.

It wasn't until I reached the tree line that it occurred to me I might need to watch the initial bloodbath. How else was I supposed to know who was left as a contender? So I used the momentum from my run to propel myself as I leapt for the lowest branch of the nearest tree. I caught the branch, and I was thankful for the extra strength provided me, as I used it to pull my body up into the tree. I quickly scaled the branches until I was high enough up to have a view of the entire open meadow where all hell was breaking loose.

I nearly lost all the water I had consumed on the way to the arena when I saw the madness before me. They were slaughtering one another. I couldn't seem to look away as I saw the boy from my district first slay a girl, and then be taken down himself. I started counting bodies, trying to get an idea of just how many people there were left, and about the moment I counted twelve bodies I started hearing the boom of a cannon.

"Oh," I whispered to myself after twelve sounds of the cannon.

I didn't need to count the dead, the game makers were going to do that for me. Instead I focused on my own game. I needed to find somewhere to hide, and up a tree in a jacket so bright it was practically a flashing beacon luring tributes toward me did not seem like the safest place to be. First things first though, I took my jacket off and flipped it around so the more vibrant colors were hidden against my body. Then I climbed back out of the tree.

As soon as my feet hit the ground I was moving again. Sylvia's advice was ringing in my ears as I started looking for water. I could live awhile without food, but I would die swiftly without water. Looking around I found I was surrounded entirely by trees, and listening intently I could not hear water, so I began to search in earnest. My gut told me there would be a source of water not very far from the meadow. The game makers would want to lure us all back to the meadow where there was no cover, and nothing to obstruct the view of the camera when we fought for our lives.

I kept as close to the edge of the tree line as I could without giving my location away, and I began to move around the sloped circle with my ears perked for even the suggestion of water. I was grateful for my worn boots when I heard no sound announcing my movements through the woods. I could hear a few birds, and occasionally the scurrying of a small animal, but otherwise the woods around me seemed to be empty.

I was tempted twice to take of my jacket as the day grew steadily warmer and I made my way further through the woods, but I was wary of painting a large target on my back by walking around in somewhat brightly colored shirt. The repercussion of keeping my stealthy clothing was that I was rapidly burning through the water I had consumed before entering the arena as I sweat profusely. I was just beginning to really worry when I heard the gentle sound of water lapping on a shore. It sounded almost exactly like the black lake back at school, so I knew without a shadow of a doubt I was near either a large pond or a lake.

Paying heed to the fact that other tribute could be lurking nearby I did not run to the water's edge. I kept up my steady pace as if I had heard nothing, and when I drew close enough to see the water, I lowered into a crouch and hid among the tall grasses that were swaying on the edge of the water. I listened intently, but I could not hear anyone near me. Still I exercised extreme caution as I edged out of the grass, keeping as much of my body obscured as I could.

I dipped my hand into the water, cupping it in my hands and wandlessly casting a cleansing charm before binging it too my mouth. I continued this routine until I had drunk my fill, and then I began to examine my surroundings once more. It was more like a pond than a lake, but it was still fairly big. There were swaying grasses on the side I was hiding in, but the other side of the lake sloped away into a field of different colored grasses and what looked to be wheat.

Too many dangers could hide in shoulder high grasses, I knew immediately I would not be going over there. The grass I was hidden in didn't provide enough cover to actually keep me safe, so I was going to need to search for something near the water with a little more natural shelter. I reluctantly moved away from the water's edge, and began slowly working my way around the slope to see if there were any rock formations hidden out of my view.

It was slow moving, making sure that there wasn't an obvious ripple in the grass as I moved, but eventually I felt the ground sloping away beneath me. I took a risk when I didn't hear anyone moving around me, and I straightened up enough to look above the grass. I couldn't help but smile when I saw that my instincts were right. In the valley where the lake bled out into a river, there were rock caves. I knew exactly where I would be sleeping tonight, and I slunk back beneath the grass and continued my slow walk toward the caves.

* * *

When night fell I was cold, but I was well hidden. I was sitting in a dark cave, trying not to whine about the fact that I could not plausibly create my own light without revealing magic, listening intently to all of the sounds outside of the cave. I should have been sleeping, but the first time I had almost drifted off another cannon shot had gone off. It reminded me in the worst way that there were other people in this arena with me, and they might not be sleeping either. So instead I was lying on a cold stone floor with a rock in my hand, praying that I wouldn't have to use it.

* * *

I must have eventually drifted off, because suddenly I was waking up to the sound of a bird chirping just outside of the cave opening. I quietly set my rock back on the floor of the cave and shook awareness back into my limbs. I noted that I could still feel strength in my limbs, but it was already half the strength it had been yesterday. If my calculations were right, that meant I would be back to regular not even remotely strong Hermione in just two more days. I felt a little sick to my stomach when I wished that the others would have killed one another by then so I wouldn't be exposed and weak while they were still out hunting me.

I pushed such morbid thoughts from my mind, and crawled quietly out of my cave. I took a moment to stretch my senses as far as I could, desperately wishing that I could cast a Homenum Revelio, but once again that would be obvious magic. So instead I listened for the sound of anyone nearby, and when several minutes went by and I heard nothing I felt safe sneaking out to gather water once more. There wasn't enough grass for me to hide behind, so I drank from the mouth of the stream while exposed.

I couldn't keep coming out to the stream and exposing myself to danger, I needed a way to keep water on my person, but I had no containers. I had fled from the cornucopia without gathering anything that could actually help me. I looked around at the forest that surrounded me and tried to find a resource that could help me.

My eyes alighted on the grass, and I couldn't help but smile once more. Hadn't I spent almost an entire day tying knots? I could tie grass into knots tight enough to hold water couldn't I? I checked once more to make sure that I was really alone, and then I began pulling tufts of grass free until I had enough long strands in my hand that I was sure I could create a makeshift water container. When I was satisfied with my pickings, I cast a subtle cleansing charm on them as well, and then I slipped into the cave, staying as close to the opening as I deemed safe. And in the low light I began to weave the grass together into what I could only describe as a water purse.

* * *

It was while I was weaving my water container together that I first noticed it. There was a stinging pain, and then the tracking device that they had implanted in my arm flashed beneath the skin and flickered out. I stared at my arm for a long time, my completed basket laying on the ground waiting to be filled with water, and once more the light flickered beneath the surface and went out. I wracked my brain for what it could be, and had to stifle a chuckle when I realized that my magic was interfering with the technology. It was so close to my body that it couldn't help but feel the influence of my magic, and it was failing to work properly. Would the game makers know what happening?

Again I had to stifle a laugh when I realized that the game makers would not even know where I was, unless the was a camera hidden in this cave. And even then, they would have to choose to look at this particular camera in order to discover that I was hiding here. I threw my jacket back on, to hide the light if it were to flicker on once more, and then I slipped out of the cave to fill my little water purse. I pulled the top closed and wrapped the braided grass around the top so the water would not leak out before stringing the makeshift strap over my shoulder and tucked it inside my jacket for safety.

It was time to find food, and sadly, unless I wanted to swim into the lake and try to wrangle a fish, I wasn't going to find food by my cave. I didn't have any weapons, so hunting any of the animals in the forest wasn't going to go well. I could set snares, but that would take time and I was hungry now. As risky as it sounded, going back to the cornucopia seemed like the best idea.

I decided to play both sides of the fence, and began setting snares in the grasses as I made my way back along the edge of the lake. Trees were few and far between in the grass by the lake, so I could only set two snares with branches nature, or I suppose the game makers, had provided me. I hoped that luck would be with me, and I edged past the shore of the lake and through the last of the grass between the lake and the meadow.

When I reached the edge of the grass I could see the cornucopia, even though it was at least a hundred yards away. I could also see that at least one of the tributes had taken it upon themselves to pile everything that had been left behind after the bloodbath into an awfully tempting mountain. I hovered just out of sight, debating if I should take a risk on what was so obviously a trap, and then I saw them. There were five people digging around the platforms we had stood on just yesterday, and carrying what looked like chunks of dirt over to the mountain they had created.

Sylvia's words popped up in my mind, _don't step of the platform early or they will blow you away_. I had thought she was being facetious, and mean that I would receive some sort of penalty, but now I realized with a sickening clarity that she literally meant blow me away. There were mines in the ground, and clearly the other tributes had figured that out and were using it to their advantage. They were replanting the mines around the supplies, creating a serious obstacle for me as well as the other tributes.

I stifled a groan of frustration, and began searching within the tall grass for any nuts or berries, or even plain green plants that looked remotely edible. I thought longingly of the feast of food I had ignored on the hover craft when I was faced with a meal that wouldn't even make a vegetarian happy. I used my shirt to carry my bounty of fern leaves and a few dandelions back to my little cave. I hid in the dark calmly eating plants, and drinking from my make shift water container, and mentally trying to tabulate how long it would take me to starve to death eating like a rabbit. The odds weren't looking good.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Song for this chapter: Somewhere A Clock Was Ticking by Snow Patrol**_

* * *

It took two days for all traces of the potions to be gone from my system, and two more for the lack of real food to make me so weak that focus was near impossible. It took one more day of near starvation listening to the sound of the cannon announcing the deaths of other tributes for me to grow brave enough to start pilfering food from the mountain by the cornucopia.

I had to be careful, it couldn't be enough food that the allied tributes would notice that I was stealing from them. Since I couldn't be sure they weren't keeping an inventory of the food that meant I could hardly take any at all. Still one apple in addition to the leaves and few safe berries I could find to eat was a blessing. Each day I had to cast a notice me not over myself, trying not to notice how it grew weaker each day as my strength and magic drained due to starvation, and I hopped through an intricate pattern to avoid the mines buried in the ground. I would steal my little apple, and I would hurry away before anyone could notice that I had been there.

Today, I was going to do it again. I slept as long as I could in the cave that I had made my home, hoping desperately that I might have a little bit of energy when I woke up. I didn't, but I still drank my water, and pulled my jacket back on as I snuck out of the cave. It felt to sunny out today, and too warm, but I left my jacket on hoping for a bit of cover. Something about today seemed different, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it as I snuck through the waving grasses on the familiar path to my food source.

I ignored my ridiculous traps, that still hadn't caught any food, and prepared for the tiring run to the food I was about to make. I finally put my finger on what was different as I drew in a deep breath to prepare myself. I could taste smoke in the air. I spared a glance to the tree line as I ran and I saw that someone had set several fires out in the forest. I supposed that explained why there was only one tribute left guarding the supplies. The others were hunting.

I tried not to focus my mind on outside influences, but as I hopped through the now familiar path around the mountain of supplies my shoddy focus was immediately drawn to the trees where another black jacket was lurking. I was in plain sight, whoever it was might decide to kill me on sight, but I couldn't stop now. If I was going to be killed, it would be with an apple in my hand. So I kept going, I scaled the cases at the base of the mountain, and I grabbed an apple. When I turned to run away I got a better look at the person in the trees. It was the female tribute from district twelve, and she had her bow trained on me. She had her bow trained on me, but she didn't shoot, so I kept running until I was hidden amongst the trees.

I was a long way away from my hidden cave, but I could well risk running in front of the girl with the bow again could I? Instead I would have to take the long route back to my cave, and there was only a chance that I would actually make it there before nightfall without running into some other tribute that might want to kill me. I wanted to slap myself as I started walking through the trees and it occurred to me just how close I had come to being shot with an arrow, and it hadn't even occurred to me to just take the sleeping potion. Was I trying to get myself killed?

Any musing about my own stupidity was cut short by the world erupting into a cacophony of sound. The ground trembled for a moment beneath my feet, but then it stilled. My ears rung in the wake of what could only have been an explosion, but then I heard the sound of the other tributes shouting. I realized that the group of allied tributes would soon be thundering into the clearing once more. Right now the supplies would be scattered around the clearing, and if I moved quick enough I might be able to get something before the others arrive. I was closer than they were.

As I ran into the clearing, I saw the district twelve girl on the ground. She was moving, so I knew she hadn't been killed, but she seemed disoriented as I sprinted past her toward the supplies. Most of them had settled onto the ground already, but a few lighter items were still fluttering to the resting place as I ran toward them. It was almost beautiful in a way, but I didn't have time to take it in. A horrible thought occurred to me as I looked through the supplies scattered along the ground and realized that none of the food seemed to have survived.

I suddenly found myself laughing, which was a wholly inappropriate response to the realization that I was likely to starve to death now. I laughed so hard that my eyes watered, and I scooped the blade of a mangled knife from the ground. I heard breaking branches and I knew the other tributes would be pouring into the clearing soon, so I grabbed a small pan as well and then I took off running.

My heart was thrumming in my chest, the air seeming to constrict my lungs as I fled the clearing. I was so tired, and my body wasn't up for such exertion, but I ran as fast as I could. As far as I could tell no one had seen me leave the clearing, but I still threw myself ground and crawled slowly through the grass. I was just passing the clearing when I heard the cannon announcing that someone else had died. I stopped where I was, my cheek pressed into the dirt clutching my prizes tightly in my hands as I listened to hear if anymore cannons would fire.

It stayed quiet long enough that I assumed there would be no more excitement for the day and I continued on my way. I made it slowly along the edge of the lake and back into my cave before another cannon went off. There was a short pause while I wondered if it had been the tribute from district twelve, and then there was another cannon shot.

_Three cannons_ I thought to myself as I sat down on the floor of the cave. I noticed the now familiar sting of pain in my arm as my tracker flared once more, but this time it seemed to linger. I set my things aside, shrugging off my jacket and looking at my arm. With a start I realized that it was swollen and warm to the touch. When I pressed lightly on it, there was another twinge of pain but the light stayed on as long as I was touching my arm.

It seemed I was able to power the device so long as I touched my arm, but what good did that do me? Particularly now, since the foreign object was clearly causing some sort of infection. As I focused on the warm orange light emanating from within my arm I heard the distinctly electronic sound of a lens focusing. I looked around the cave for the camera, but it was well hidden.

I released my hold on my arm, allowing the flickering to die out. When my arm looked normal once more I crawled across the floor of the cave and sat down in the corner furthest from the opening. Once again I pressed on my arm, ignoring the pain as the tracker flared to life. And again I heard the camera whirring to focus on my location. This time I could tell that it was coming from my left, and though I couldn't see the camera I was pretty sure I was looking in its general direction.

"This is tracker is causing an infection," I spoke slowly to the camera, paying particular attention to enunciating my speech in the way a panem resident would and holding my hand tightly to my arm so the camera would not turn away from me. "I don't have a fair chance with it in, and I think it's a violation to cut it out."

Of course there was no response, but I had to hope that someone had been watching that camera and had seen what I had said. They would know my location now, and they could send me an answer on whether or not to cut it out couldn't they? I removed my hand from arm, and let the tracker die out once more before lying down on the floor of the cave and closing my eyes.

I tried to calculate how long an infection of this level would actually take to kill me. I wondered if I could use this as an opportunity to 'die' of a natural cause. I would have to wait for the infection to get worse before taking the potion or they would likely do an autopsy to see what had killed me. It was with questions of just how long I would need to wait dancing around in my head, that I drifted to sleep.

* * *

I was unaware of how long I had slept, but I was awoke by the sound of a voice being broadcast across the arena. It was a man's voice, calling for the attention of the tributes, and it was so shocking that it could have risen the dead. I sat bolt upright and listened to him explain the change in the rules. If my math was right it didn't make much difference, but apparently now district members could pair together and the two of them would be allowed to live if they were the last ones standing. As far as I knew the only pair left were the boy and girl from district twelve, and I wasn't trying to win this game so I didn't have to beat them, I just had to avoid them.

I once again pressed my fingers against the swelling in my arm, ignoring the pain, but noting that it had further swollen. Mere seconds after my arm began to glow I heard the camera focusing it attention on me once more. For a second I wondered if the camera had been on the entire time and it had simply moved to let me know someone was listening. Surely now that they knew my location they could check it whenever they wanted couldn't they? I pushed that from my mind for the moment and focused on the task at hand.

"Are you going to just let me die?" I asked, trying to sound as pitiful as possible.

I allowed myself a moment to simply pout, and then I let the tracker flicker out once more. My body didn't want to move, the malnutrition already making a dent in my stamina, but I forced myself to climb up off the floor anyway. I grabbed the knife blade and tucked it in my belt for safe keeping, and took the pot with me as I went in search of something I could turn into a soup.

I had avoided eating any of the grass until now, but I was very hungry, and I was hoping that I might get a few nutrients from cooking it. I checked my snares, hoping against hope, but still they hadn't caught anything. I did find a small gathering of mushrooms which I quickly harvested with a gleeful smile.

I threw them into the pot with my grass and made my way back to the water's edge. I filled my water container before scooping a bit of water into the pan with my pitiful soup ingredient. I debated the safety of building a fire outside of the cave, but it seemed safer to risk smoke inhalation inside the cave.

My arm was not glowing, but I could hear the camera following my movements within the cave, so I could not risk simply creating a fire by magic. I had to at least look like I was using the survival skills I had developed in the training center, so I took my knife blade in one hand, and the rock I had saved in the other. I had to hope everyone would assume it was flint as I used it to try and spark a flame amongst the twigs and dried leaves I had piled together for my fire.

Luckily the rock did spark a bit when hit by the blade, though they didn't seem to have any heat to them. If I were not a witch I would not be able to successfully build a fire. For the first time since entering the arena luck seemed to be on my side, and I was able to coax a small flame into existence without giving away any of my secrets. I gave it a moment to build up before I began holding my meager soup of the flame to heat it.

* * *

Still I had received no word from the game makers about the malfunctioning tracking device, and the infection had grown much worse. It had spread so my hand and bicep were swollen as well, and I had a feeling I was running a fever. I was beginning to think I could plausibly take the draught of the living death and seem to have realistically died from the infection I was suffering from, so I had stopped calling the attention of the camera to me.

I was stuck in the cave while it seemed to never stop raining outside, and I took the opportunity to sleep as much as I could. I had to hope that the other tributes were stuck in their own hiding spots, and frankly I was too tired to do much anyway. Still, I occasionally heard the camera moving around, and I knew that the game makers were watching me as the infection slowly got worse.

When the rain was starling to let up, and I was feeling so ill that the chills had set in I decided it was time. I was planning how I could take the stone from the ring in a way that the camera wouldn't see when once more there was an announcement ringing out across the arena. I listened closely to what the man's voice said, and my mind began to whir once more.

_You all need something_ he had said. How many times had I begged the camera for help? I couldn't logically stage my own death without at least trying to collect what they had sent me could I? I would have to go get whatever it was they were sending me to cure the infection, and I would have to find another way to 'die.'

I drug myself to my feet, swaying in the darkness and noting vaguely that I could see vibrant blue butterflies fluttering at the edges of my vision that couldn't possibly be there. I actually laughed at the thought of my infection reaching the level of hallucinations, and then I staggered out of the cave.

It was the dead of the night, and the rain was just letting up. I was certain, or as certain as my fevered brain could be, that the other tributes were hidden away weighing the pros and cons of going after the gift being presented to them at the feast. It was the perfect time to make my way to the cornucopia. The gifts would not arrive until the morning, but I would be waiting inside that black beacon of death, waiting to snatch my prize the second it appeared, and disappear into the woods once more.

My estimation was that my cave was only half a mile from the center of the arena, but it still seemed to take me ages to stagger my way there in the darkness. I was so tired and disoriented, and frankly the butterflies were growing more distracting as they began to take over more of my vision, but I eventually made it there. There wasn't a soul in sight as I slid into the dark recesses of the metal cornucopia, but I could hear camera's swiveling.

As I waited in the darkness the rain came to a complete stop. As I struggled to stay awake, and focus beyond the increasing fogginess that grew in my mind, the sun began to rise. I turned to face the opening, crouching and ready, and I waited. It grew slowly warmer within the cornucopia, and then I heard the sound of machinery moving.

A recess opened in the ground and a platform began to rise out of the ground. There were so few bags sitting there, it pulled my up short. I hadn't realized how close I had gotten to the end of the game. I scanned the numbers, wondering if the single bag for district twelve meant that one of them had passed on, or if it meant they were working in a team. When my eyes landed on the small green bag with a five on it I almost launched out of my crouched position. The table hadn't stopped moving, and I couldn't be certain it wasn't rigged to injure me if I touched it too soon.

So I waited. I waited a few seconds past when it was finally in place, to listen for any approaching tributes. When I heard nothing, I finally launched out of my crouch. I dashed forward, the speed keeping my staggering legs moving forward in a semi straight line. I snatched my bag off the table, and I took of running in the direction of my cave. I didn't see anyone watching me, but I couldn't trust my eyes after all of the hallucinations I had been plagued with throughout the night.

I made it to the grass near the edge of the lake before my shaking legs gave out beneath me. I collapsed on the ground, and decided that here was as good as anywhere to take my medicine. I unzipped the bag, and to my surprise it wasn't just a syringe of antibiotics that fell out. On the ground before me I had the medicine, as well as surgical thread, a needle, and a bandage. I realized that they were telling me to cut the tracker out, and I was torn between wanting to laugh, and wanting to vomit. They were looking for a gruesome scene, as they hadn't given me anything to prevent pain.

I did laugh when I decided to give them their show without any of the drama. I quickly injected the entire syringe of medication into my arm at the heart of the swelling. It hurt to inject it, but the almost immediate relief of my symptoms made it worth it. I ran my hand over the rapidly shrinking arm in what would appear to be a comforting gesture, but in fact I was casting a strong numbing charm on my arm. I kept rubbing my and back and forth until I could no longer feel it moving across my arm and then I knew it was time. I pulled the knife blade from my belt, surreptitiously spelling it clean before I pressed it into my flesh. I did not allow any emotion to pass over my face as my blood began spilling. I used the blade to dig out the little metal chip. When it dropped into the grass with a splat and I saw how much blood was pouring out of the wound I realized they expected me to die doing this.

I couldn't help but chuckle to myself as I picked up the needle and thread. I'd show them who was dying. I threaded the needle, and I was about to press the needle into my skin when I registered the sound of someone running toward me. My heart started thrumming in my chest when I realized how stupid I had been. I was sitting in plain sight! I turned my head just in time to see Thresh bearing down on me. I tried to duck out of the way, but he swung his arm forward, causing his bag to hit me in the face and send me reeling. I fumbled in the grass, grabbing desperately onto my knife blade, and then he was on me.

For a moment his weight was crushing me into the ground, but then I was able to roll free enough to see him. He was crouched over me, one hand pressing me into the dirt, and the other holding onto one of the biggest knives I had ever seen. He lunged forward, and all I could do was grab his wrist and try to direct the knife away from me.

He was far stronger than me, and it took only a second for me to feel the sting of the knife cutting the flesh of my shoulder. A strange animalistic sound came from my mouth as I tried to fight him off, and the knife only cut deeper. I couldn't push him off of me, and he was slowly cleaving me open. I couldn't think, I couldn't breathe, I could hardly move. In a moment of panic I tightened my grip on the blade in my hand and I swung my arm up and plunged the knife into the side of his neck.

He bellowed in pain, and his blade pulled out of my wound. I gasped in pain, my own grip slipping off of the blade in his neck. I watched as he staggered away from me, and for some reason that I could not understand he pulled the knife from his neck. The second he did that his blood began to rush out of him, and I watched in horror as he collapsed to the ground. I was in excruciating pain, and most likely bleeding out, but all I could focus on was how he had gone very still and then suddenly the air was full of the sound of a cannon.

_I had killed someone_.

I was numb. I couldn't even fathom what I had just done. The numbness over splitting my soul gave me enough clarity from the pain of my injuries to pull myself up into a sitting position. I found the needle and thread in the grass and I set to work sealing my wounds. I felt nothing as I closed the wound on my arm, and I moved on to try and numb the injury on my shoulder.

The spell only seemed to take the edge off, not numb it entirely, and I couldn't risk waiting too long and passing out from blood loss. So I began to sew the wound closed, grunting in pain with each stitch. I just kept telling myself that I could take my potion as soon as I was done. I had to make sure I wouldn't actually die first, so my body would still be alive when Professor Snape gave me the antidote to the potion. My world dwindled down to the sight of my fingers, and my bloody clothes. The second I had placed the last stitch my consciousness wavered. The world went black around me, and even though I was out in the grass beside the lake completely exposed to the elements as well as the other tributes, I passed out.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Song for this chapter: A Bitter Song by Butterfly Boucher**_

* * *

**JPOV**

* * *

I was frozen to my chair, like I had been the night before, and the night before that. I only left my seat in front of the television when my husband forced me to go to bed. For so long, I had been sitting in this chair, praying for a glimpse of my daughter and I thought it was the worst sort of misery I could be in. But then suddenly she began popping up on screen and I was in further agony. I watched her fall ill with infection, watched her body wasting away from malnutrition, and it was the worst hell I had known.

Or I thought it had. Suddenly I was watching her cut open her own body and I could not unfreeze myself from the chair. I gripped my own thighs to the point of pain as I watched her butcher herself to rid herself of whatever was causing her infection. I was torn between wanting to cry, and wanting to scream, so instead I remained silent my mouth gaping open as I watched the macabre scene.

But then a beast of a boy came upon her, and he attacked her, and finally noise fell from my mouth. It was a sound I couldn't name, it wasn't quite a scream, not quite a groan, and it wasn't remotely human. It came from me as I fell from my chair reaching for the television as if I could protect her with my own arms. From a distance I felt arms wrap around me, and I knew John was holding me but my world did not have room for him at the moment.

I watched in horror as that boy drove his machete into my daughter's flesh. I could see her blood staining her clothes, and I could see the pain in her eyes as the camera pulled in tighter. I couldn't bear to watch her be wounded, so instead I watched her eyes and I saw when the pain turned to panic and then morphed again to calculation. That look was there for the tiniest of seconds, and then I saw my little girl plunge the blade of a knife into the neck of her attacker.

The boy stumbled away, and the focus of the camera was on him and his rapid but brutal death, but my eyes were focused on Hermione. I watched as she pulled herself up from the ground, pain evident on her pale white face. I was horrified to watch her determinately stitch first her forearm and then her shoulder back together. I felt John's arm clenching around me, but I was lost in my own battle not to be ill.

"She cannot feel it," the professor said, bringing sound back into the world around us. "She has cast a numbing charm. She is not hurting herself."

I heard his words, but still I could not tear my eyes away from her. I watched in absolute terror as she swayed gently and then fell unconscious in the grass. That was when I started screaming.

"Jean," John said hoarsely trying to turn me to face him as I fought to break free of his hold. "Breathe Jean. Breathe. There wasn't a cannon, they haven't announced her death."

I stopped screaming, but I couldn't seem to stop whimpering as I pulled my attention back to the screen. The camera had left Hermione entirely and returned those two children from district twelve. Were they not even going to let me see my daughter as she died? I needed to see her!

"You said you would save her," I shouted rounding on the man in dark clothing who was still standing sentinel against the wall of my living room. "Your promised us she would come back alive."

"She has not died," he said in his ever calm voice. "The camera would go back to her if that were the case. She has passed out, but she will come too and then knowing that she is gravely injured she will take the potion that I gave her. She will be home very soon."

When Professor Snape had finished speaking, John picked me up from the floor as if I were a rag doll and carried me out of the living room before calling back over his shoulder. "Call us back is something changes."

* * *

John would not let me leave the bedroom until morning had come, and the professor did not come for us. I understood better why he had not come when we returned to the living room only to discover that Hermione was not present on the screen. I watched more of the love story between the two from district twelve, but I was desperate to see my daughter instead.

I paced about the living room, no longer able to trust the chair I had been sitting in when Hermione had nearly been killed. I paced back and forth as if the distance I covered between the walls of this little house could somehow bring me closer to her. Days passed and I did not see her, and I was growing frantic with worry.

"Why hasn't she taken it?" I asked as calmly as I could from where I was leaning on the opposite side of the room of Professor Snape.

"It is likely that she had regained enough strength upon awakening that she did not believe she could pass her death off as believable," he said quietly, and I noticed for the first time that he looked very tired.

"I don't understand," John said quietly from where he sat in front of the television.

"She has to be very careful about how she stages her death," he went on, pinching the bridge of his nose. "She will not be killed by another tribute which will already have the game makers on alert. If the death is too suspicious they may choose to perform an autopsy. And while the potion doesn't actually kill her, an autopsy most definitely would."

"When did the two of you have such a morbid conversation?" I gasped.

"We didn't," he sighed, pushing off of the wall. "You must know by now that your daughter is intelligent enough to understand things like that on their own. Now if you'll excuse me I am being summoned. I must return temporarily to England, but I will be back before the night is out."

I watched him walk into the room we kept for Hermione, and heard the pop that meant her had disappeared. It wasn't the first time he had been summoned back, but I was still full of terror. What if the moment came while he was away. He was never gone longer than a few hours, but they were very long hours. I sat heavily on the floor, leaning my head back against the wall and closing my eyes. For the first time I willingly looked away from the screen that could tell me how my daughter was doing, and I just prayed. Silently and repetitively I prayed for everything to work out.

* * *

It happened almost exactly as the professor materialized out of thin air in our living room. There was the pop announcing his presence, and then suddenly the television screen changed. One moment I had been watching the girl tracking prey with her bow, and then suddenly I saw Hermione again. She was paler than pale, skinnier than I had ever seen, but she was up and moving. She had her jacket on and her eyes were focused as she followed the boy from district twelve through the woods.

I ignored everything the announcer was saying and focused on my daughter as intensely as I could. I watched her mimic the movement of the boy and stoop to pick something from a bush. She held whatever it was tightly in her hand and watched as the boy kept moving. The camera thankfully stayed on her, and I watched her slowly raise her hand to her mouth.

I noted that her ring was turned around so the stone could not be seen, and I knew it must be time. She swallowed, and for a moment she looked peaceful. That moment passed, and her eyes rolled back into her head. Her hand fell away revealing the stain of what looked to be red berries on her lips, and he body slumped to the ground. She lay very still and then the boom of the canon erupted and I knew the game makers were declaring her dead.

I couldn't help it, even knowing she wasn't really dead I vomited on the floor. I vomited and I began to cry, but through bleary eyes I saw Professor Snape vanishing my sick. He conjured a glass of water and handed it to me before handing a handkerchief to my husband and stepping out of the room. I was grateful for the privacy as John came to me and buried his head in my neck before he burst into tears as well.

* * *

It took two days for the people of the capitol to bring us the body of our child. They were days that did not exist in my life. My life did not exist until that wooden coffin appeared on the kitchen table. It was strange that when presented with the half dead body of my daughter in a pine box, all I could think about was how unsanitary it was to put a dead body on the kitchen table. Did all of the other people living in this district do that? How were any of them alive?

I was pulled from my musings when the professor sprang into action. He quickly used his wand to vanish the wooden box, and suddenly the still unfamiliar form of my daughter appeared on the table. He pulled down the top of the white gown they had dressed her in, exposing the poorly stitched wound that stretched from the top of her shoulder to just over the top of her breast. I found I was numb to the fact that she was partially exposed in front of her father and her teacher, and I was very afraid of that wound.

He worked silently, magicking away the stitches she had placed and doing the best to heal the wound. The skin seemed to knit itself back together, but the red raised line did not go entirely away. His wand stopped moving, and I understood that he had done everything he could. Hermione would keep a scar from this event in her life. His replaced her gown, and went to work on her arm. His wand work seemed more successful this time around, and the wound disappeared entirely. A tiny bit of my curiosity sparked in me and I wondered if the ability to heal was due to the depth of the wound.

My silly curiosity fled me when I saw the professor puling potion vials from within his robes. He set them in a row on the table, and I could see that they were all labeled in spikey handwriting. I didn't know what most of the names meant, but Hermione had trusted him to save her, so I trusted him. I looked on as he gently picked up her head, and cradled it in the crook of his arm as he reached for the first vial. He opened it, and quickly poured the bright green potion down her throat.

He massaged her throat to move the potion down her throat, and then she gasped for air and her eyes snapped open. They still weren't quite her eyes, but I was so grateful to see them. They flickered back and forth in a disoriented manner, but Professor Snape did not stop to speak to her. He just moved onto the next vial, but this time she swallowed it without his ministrations.

He gave her three more potions, and the he very carefully lay her back down on the table. He waved his wand over her several more times, and slowly her hair shifted back to brown, her skin darkened to the peach that was her skin, and her face shape changed until it was the sweat heart shaped face I had been looking at for years. He stepped back from the table, and once again demonstrated his ability to understand when privacy was needed and slipped out of the room.

John and I moved in sink, rushing to either side of the table, and grasping her still cold hands. I squeezed her hand, and she drew a deep shaky breath before she burst into tears. I quickly pulled her into my arms, and cradled her to my chest as she cried deep heaving sobs. I cried while I held her, and I felt the gentle shaking of John's shoulders as he held me. It was a horrible moment for the pair of us, but we knew it must be so much worse for Hermione.

"Do you want to talk about it," I whispered into her hair.

She shook her head, and straightened her back in a way that silently told me she wanted to be let go. I stepped back and watched her wipe her own tears. I tried not to think about how that should be my job, as I watched my daughter put herself back together on her own.

"No Mum," she said softly. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Are you sure," John asked. "We're here for you love."

"I know," she croaked. "And you're safe now, so you'll be here for me for a very long time."

"I'm just glad that you're safe now," I said, feeling tears threatening to fall once more.

Some emotion that I couldn't name rolled across her face, but she kept her composure. She didn't say anything to indicate what she had thought about, she just offered a watery smile before wrapping her arms around herself in a comforting gesture and looking out toward the living room window.

"I think I need to get back to school," she sighed tiredly. "Term has already started up and I am missing classes. I need to go. I can't be here right now."

I understood why she wanted to leave, but it still hurt to hear it. I was afraid to see her go away so quickly, but at the same time I understood her. School was important to her, and that was part of it, but more importantly this place must feel like a nightmare to her. She couldn't be here right now.

"Okay baby," I relented. "You know we love you don't you?"

"Of course Mum," she whispered, tears filling her voice once more. "I love you both as well, so much."

"Be safe," John said in a gruff voice. "Please baby."

The professor appeared once more and crossed quickly to the table. He handed Hermione her cloak and helped her to put it on when she fumbled. John held me tightly while we watch this strange man put our daughter's shoes on for her and scoop her up in his arms. She spared us a glance and a wave goodbye while tears streamed down her face, and then he spun away from us and with a pop they were gone.

Just like that she was gone again. I hated magic for taking her away again, but I loved magic for saving her life. Magic seemed to be everything in our life, and that made no sense as neither my husband or I were remotely magical.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Song for this chapter: Where To Now by Cider Sky**_

* * *

"I am going to set you down now Miss Granger," he said quietly as the pressure of apparition finally stopped.

I swayed on her feet for a second, but managed to stay vertical. He handed me a handkerchief and I began trying to mop up my face even though it felt like the tears would never stop coming. My stern professor looked different to me now as we stood together in the darkness outside the school gate. I almost thought of him as a friend, but I knew that was wrong… he was still my teacher. Even if he was the only one who knew what I had gone through, he was still just my teacher; I could not allow myself to think of him as anything else.

"You will go back first, we can't go in together," he explained quietly. "The headmaster has been transfiguring himself to look like me and teaching my classes, so as far as the school is concerned I was here there entire time. You're arrival is highly anticipated by your friends however."

"Where do they think I've been?" I forced out through my tight throat.

"They are under the impression that you took very ill over the Easter Holiday," he went on. "They think you've been in the hospital for the last two weeks, but they know you are coming back today. They were told that you had a very bad case of mononucleosis and that you may look quite ill still upon your return. They will likely still make a big deal over the weight loss and the sunken features, but they shouldn't push you on it. They will also understand if you need more time to heal, so you have some room for adjustment."

"So they won't ask me about the eighteen year old boy that I murdered?" I asked in a voice that I didn't recognize as my own. "That's nice I guess."

"Self-defense does not a murder make," he said in a very quiet voice. "You understand that don't you?"

"I understand that I plunged a knife into his throat," I shot back. "I understand that I woke up in the grass with his blood all over my hands. I understand that he is dead while I am alive."

"Yes, you are alive," he nodded. "You were put into a situation with very few avenues of escape, and that led to the situation where your choice was to die or to kill. You did what you had too, and no one would hold that against you."

"Do you think the other half of my soul understands that?" I mused, turning away from him and looking up toward the castle. "Do you even know where the piece of my broken soul went?"

I didn't wait for him to provide the answer. I just began the long walk back to the castle and tried to convince myself that I wasn't going to cry again. If I was going to face Harry and Ron in a few minutes I couldn't do it with tears on my face. That was assuming I could make it up to the castle without passing out from sheer exhaustion.

* * *

The boys were waiting for me eagerly outside of the portrait hole, and it wasn't until I saw them that I realized just how much I had missed them. Just the sight of their faces made my throat tighten and it occurred to me that I hadn't thought I would ever see them again. I was too tired to run to them, but the two of them seemed to understand that. When I made eye contact they threw themselves at me and it was just what I needed. They wrapped me in their arms, and their heat enveloped me as the as they pressed me between them. I felt safe for the first time in weeks, and my throat tightened with the threat of tears once more.

"So don't take this the wrong way Hermione," Ron said when the boys had finally released me. "But you look like crap."

"I still kind of feel a bit crappy," I shrugged. "The walk up really wore me out. Can we go sit down?"

"Of course, of course," Harry said, hooking his arm through my and turning us to face the portrait. "Bowtruckle."

The Fat Lady nodded, and swung open to let us into the common room. I was glad to see that most everyone must have gone to bed already, so I wouldn't have a huge audience for my first day back. I let Harry lead me over to couch, and I was ever so grateful to take a seat after such a long time standing. I would have liked to have something to eat, but the thought of walking all the way down to the kitchens was exhausting so I resolved to wait until morning.

"So no one really explained what mono-whatsit is to us," Ron jumped right in as soon as they were all seated.

"It's one of those diseases that take a long time to explain," I said tiredly as I tugged a throw blanket off of the couch and wrapped it around my tired body. "The easiest way to describe it is like a really, really bad flu. I still technically have it, but I felt well enough to leave the hospital and I am already so behind in classes as it is."

"I tried to take notes for you," Harry said with a smile. "But I doubt they will be up to your standard."

"I gathered your homework," Ron piped up.

"You missed some really crazy things outside of class though," Harry went on.

"Fred and George dropped out of school!" Ron practically shouted, causing me to flinch before I got myself under control once more.

"They set off fireworks, and made a pond in the hallway," Harry chattered.

"Gryffindor won the Quidditch cup," Ron cheered. "I was kind of the hero of it all."

"Hagrid is keeping a giant in the forbidden forest!" Harry popped off. "His name is Grawp."

I zoned out and stopped really hearing what the boys were saying. They were so excited, and practically talking over one another in an effort to give me all the information on what I had missed. I was just content to be back in their company again. So content that I drifted off to sleep while sandwiched between them on the couch.

* * *

Trying to return to classes as if nothing had happened was far more difficult that I had expected it to be. There were so many people, and they made me incredibly jumpy. One minute I would be sitting in transfiguration attempting to focus my mind on the review we were doing for the upcoming OWLs and the next minute someone shifted in their seat and the change of light in their hair looked so much like the girl from district twelve sneaking into the trees that my heart started racing in my chest. Or I would be eating lunch and the smell of the soup would remind me of the sorry excuse for soup I had made out of grass and river water, and my stomach would turn.

The worst of it was seeing Blaise Zambini walking around the school. He was a little bit shorter, and just a tiny bit plumper, but he looked like Thresh. I felt haunted. The ghost of my victim was stalking me through the school, and there was nothing I could do about it because he wasn't a ghost. He was a living breathing student who was driving me to the edge of my sanity.

I lasted through a week of the insanity, dodging strange looks from my classmates, and sad looks from Harry and Ron before I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't think of anywhere else to turn, and because of that I found myself sitting in the battlements. It was the one section that wasn't open to students, because there were no ledges to keep a person from falling. That lack of ledges was what convinced me to throw out all of the school rules and show up here.

It was cold on the battlements, with the wind whipping my hair about, but I hardly felt it. I had my silly striped scarf that no longer made me feel like I was a part of my house, and my now too large robes to keep the cold away. It was unlikely that I would need them much longer anyway, so I paid them no head. Instead I looked down toward the ground, wondering how long it would take me to hit the ground if I were to jump. Reason said that I would likely bounce off of some of the partial roofs on the way down. I might even expire before I landed on the ground. Would it hurt less that way?

I shuffled forward, leaning further out so I could see what was beneath me better. If I took a running leap I might actually clear the castle entirely. For a moment I wished I had studied physics so I could know for sure what would happen. It was too late for that now though. I took a tiny step back, preparing to launch myself from the battlements, but my back collided with something solid.

I tottered on my feet, nearly falling from the opening, but a set of strong arms wrapped around my torso and pulled me back. I watched my bit of peace slip away from me as I was backed up several paces and I thought I may burst into tears once more. Instead I bit my lip and gathered my courage when the arms spun me around. I found myself face to face with none other than Professor Snape.

"We went to a lot of effort to keep you alive these last few weeks you and I," he said as he released his hold on me. "Effort that would go to waste if you were to jump."

"I wasn't goin—"

"Do not lie to me Miss Granger," he cut me off. "We both know you were going to jump just now. Let's not pretend it was anything else."

"Okay," I sighed, my legs suddenly refusing to hold weight as I dropped down onto the ground and leaned against the wall. "Tell me why I shouldn't. Tell me how to go on without half of my soul."

"Miss Granger," he said as he turned ot look out of the opening in the battlement as well. "Do you know what it is that splits a soul?"

"Murder," I answered easily.

"Yes, and murder, but you aren't thinking about the meaning of that word," he elucidated. "In order to split your soul you must kill someone, but more than that you must feel no remorse for having done it."

I pulled my robes tightly around my body suddenly feeling very cold as I turned my attention fully to him.

"Though you refuse to hear me on the point, what you did was not murder it was self-defense," he went on. "But more than that, you regret it. You feel horribly about what happened, and because of that your soul will not split."

"Are you certain?" I asked him my lip trembling with the threat of new tears.

"I am," he said stoically.

That burnt out the last of my reserves. I lost my tenuous battle against the tears. It was miserable curled up on the stone floor, with the wind whipping my hair, and tears wracking my body. Worst of all was that I was losing it in front of Professor Snape again.

"Should you mention this to anyone I will gladly tell the entire student body you have lost your ever loving mind," his voice said softly, much closer to my ear than it had been seconds ago. "Now come here."

And just like that I found myself wrapped up in the arms of the schools most ruthless professor. Somehow I expected him to feel hard and cold, but he was warm and supple wrapped around me. I buried my face in his voluminous robes and breathed in the scent of herbs and spices as I tried to calm myself. He went as far as to rub my back in a soothing circular gesture, and I was torn between contentment, and being heartbroken that it wasn't one of my close friends here holding me. I realized it was wrong of me not to have told the boys what had happened, but even here wrapped in the arms of someone I never expected to make friends with the prospect of admitting what I had done was far too large to contemplate.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Song for this chapter: Iridescent by Linkin Park**_

* * *

It seemed like I blinked my eyes and it was time to take the OWL examinations. These were tests that I had been preparing for, for years now, and suddenly I didn't care. I had a time table for studying and revising, that I had mapped out before leaving for Easter break and now I could hardly stand to look at them. I did my best to put up a front, and push Harry and Ron toward studying and I really tried to study herself.

It didn't seem like much use now though. I was likely going to fail out of Hogwarts this year, and I couldn't find it in me to care. I almost wanted it. If I failed out, then I wouldn't be a witch anymore, and if I wasn't a witch anymore no one would ever come looking for my parents.

I was stumbling through, going through the motions more than anything, as I tried to find my balance and it made me blind to what was going on around me. I went through with my prefect duties, but my heart wasn't in it. I watched with my classmates during the astronomy OWL as Hagrid was fired, and Professor McGonagall was attacked but I felt nothing. I heard my own voice call out no, and yet I wasn't sure what had prompted me to do it as I felt no emotional connection to what I was watching. The other girls screamed and I found myself screaming with them. I gasped as Hagrid began to retaliate against the attackers, and I realized then what I was feeling was shock.

This felt too much like being in the arena, that was why I could no longer feel my legs. I could feel myself slipping into a panic attack and with what little logic I still had I realized I was in the worst place for that to happen. I gasped out some incoherent response to what all of us had just witnessed, praying that everyone would just assume I was upset for Hagrid and McGonagall. I even heard myself providing an answer about why Hagrid had not been stunned by the others, but I was not in control of my own body anymore.

I followed the boys as everyone left the tower and I tried to keep my breathing under control. There were so many people in the common room when we returned that I almost screamed again. Instead I waited for the boys to fall into explanations of what happened and then I slowly snuck away. I hid in the now empty fifth year girls dormitory and stuffed my pillowcase in my mouth to muffle the sound of my panicked screams as I allowed this strange attack to run its course.

Eventually the screaming stopped, which was lucky because the other girls had returned to the dorm, but the racing heart and inability to breathe properly didn't seem to be wavering in the slightest I had to admit defeat. I slid out of bed, cupping my hand over my mouth to muffle the sound of my breathing, and I snuck back out of the dormitory. I was fleetingly grateful that I hadn't bothered to change into my pajamas, but mostly all I could think about was getting to Professor Snape.

I didn't actually know where Professor Snape's quarters were, and six in the morning was likely too early to look for him in in his classroom. I made my way toward the dungeons hoping that something would hint toward the location of his chambers. He had to be easy to find right? He was a head of house after all.

For the first time since my panic attack had started luck was on my side, and he was out for a morning stroll. I nearly crashed into him as I began descending the stairs without looking where I was going. He reached out to catch me before I could crash to the ground, and though he was gentle he still knocked my hand free of my mouth revealing my ragged breathing.

"What is going on?" he asked me once my balance was restored.

"Calming draught please," I panted at him, bending over to hold onto my knees when my breathing started to make me dizzy again.

"You saw the attack last night," he said plainly, automatically inferring what had set me off.

I nodded vigorously as he took me by the elbow and began leading me back to his classroom. I let him lead me along and barely batted an eyelash when he pulled me into his office off the side of his classroom. He pushed me down into a chair in front of his desk and gently positioned me so my head rested between my knees.

"Have you even slept?" he asked over the sound of clinking bottles.

"No," I panted, and then it occurred to me he might give me some sort of sleep potion. "Please don't give me something that will put me under. I have an exam shortly."

"History of magic correct?" he asked when he was close enough that I could see his feet in my limited range of vision.

I nodded, too winded to keep speaking.

"What I am going to give you will not make you sleep, but it will make you extremely complacent," he explain as he lightly gripped my shoulder to pull me back into an upright position. "It may affect your concentration a bit, but for this particular exam you should not have a problem."

If I hadn't been freaking out for hours that statement might have bothered me. Instead I just nodded my head and reached out for the vial he was offering. I quickly pulled the cork and downed the contents, surprised to find they weren't disgusting like every other potion in the wizarding world.

"Vanilla?" I asked when my breathing had returned to normal, my heart had calmed in my chest, and I no longer seemed to be producing copious amounts of sweat.

"I find calming draughts of such strength are ineffective if the patient spits it out due to the taste," he said calmly as he leaned back against his desk with his arms folded over the chest.

"What usually makes people spit it out," she asked as she closed her eyes for a moment and sunk further into the chair.

"Most people find the taste of frog brains to be very bitter," he chuckled.

It was the last thing Hermione heard before she drifted off to sleep right there in the chair.

* * *

I woke up on a couch, but it was in the same position as the chair had been so I suspected Professor Snape had transfigured the chair. I sat bold upright looking around, and immediately spotted him sitting at his desk writing something.

"I was fairly plain that I couldn't go to sleep," I pointed out, though I wasn't particularly ruffled about it. "What time is it?"

"You needed the rest," he countered. "And it is only one, you have an entire hour until you sit your exam."

"Okay then," I nodded, perfectly fine with his answer. "I guess I'll go grab a quick shower then."

I didn't wait for a response from him, I just walked out of his office and made my way back up to Gryffindor tower. It occurred to me as I was sliding into the shower that I had forgotten to thank Professor Snape. I made a note to tell him later and then I focused my mind entirely on the simple task of washing my hair.

* * *

I settled into the fog in my mind and let my body carry me through the motions. I dressed and went down to the great hall. I sat amongst the other students and I took out my quill. An examination was put before me so I answered the questions on it. I knew the answers, and I found without that little voice in the back of my head questioning each choice that it was much easier to simply regurgitate the facts that I already knew by heart.

I was disturbed for a moment when I thought I heard someone screaming, but I just kept on writing until there were no more questions. I turned in my test and followed the other students out into the entrance hall where I found myself standing beside a very concerned Ron. He asked me what I thought Harry had seen, but I had no idea what he was talking about so I simply shrugged my shoulders and stood beside him. I assumed we were waiting for something.

What we were waiting for became clear when Harry sprinted over to us and started talking a mile a minute about Sirius Black. He wanted to run off to the ministry, and I tried to explain to him that his plan to would not work but he did not seem to see any logic in any of my arguments. Things seemed to really get away from me when several other members of Dumbledore's Army joined us, and I resigned to falling back into the role of follower.

I was surprisingly calm when I found myself breaking into Umbridge's office alongside Harry. I watched as he spoke to Kreacher, and kept watching when our little escapade was interrupted by Umbridge and her inquisitorial squad. Things seemed to be spinning out of control quickly, and yet I was detached from the situation and able to think about what our next move should be. I was just thinking it should be to call for Professor Snape when he arrive in the room as if my very thoughts had summoned him.

I watched the conversation between him, Harry, and Umbridge and I realized that he was not going to be at all successful at helping us. I assumed he was going to focus his effort on going directly to Black, and I was going to have to find a way out of this situation for the rest of us. I sifted through my foggy mind trying to think of a way to easily get rid of Umbridge when I stumbled upon a half formed memory of Harry telling me about a giant in the forest. That seemed to be a good enough idea so I decided to go with that. Of course I couldn't just tell her I was dragging her into the forest to be attacked by a giant, so I made up a story about a weapon and let the chips fall where they may.

* * *

They hadn't fallen well, and suddenly I found myself flying through the air on an invisible thestral. I was in an unfamiliar situation, but the way my heart started to race despite the heavy level of calming draught flowing through my veins was very familiar. As the night grew steadily more out of control I could feel my ability to stay focused on what was happening slipping from me.

The night started to pass in flashes as if I were looking at snap shots in an album rather than experiencing them myself. There was a blue door, and then there was a tank full of brains. There was a stragely shaped fire, and then there was a stone stage with a large arch on it. There was a room full of sparkling light, and then there was just running.

I heard crashes and I ran. I saw darkly cloaked figures and I ran. Somewhere in a detached part of my mind I could register that I was doing more than running, but I was unable to process it through the blinding, blood pounding, panic that had taken over my being. Then there was a horrible burning purple flame that tore into my recently healed shoulder and the world just went away.

* * *

I woke up from what had surely been my death and found myself in a bed in the hospital wing of Hogwarts. The wing was quiet, so I assumed everyone was sleeping but when I opened my eyes again I saw that Professor Snape was standing by my bed that was hidden from the others by curtains. He was watching me with piercing eyes, and when he saw that I was focused on him he swept forward to sit on the edge of my bed and took my hand.

"I am never giving you a calming potion again," he said with a dark chuckle. "I haven't a clue how you are even alive right now. Seeking out a giant? Running off to the ministry? What were you thinking?"

"I couldn't think," I answered as I attempted to sit up, before wincing and collapsing back onto the bed. "My mind was so foggy; I don't know what I was doing. And then everything fell apart, and it was just like the games. I lost myself; I don't even remember what happened there."

"You were very nearly killed by a death eater," he explained before pointing to my shoulder. "His curse reopened the wound I healed on your shoulder, and the scar is going to be much more unpleasant now."

"I expected a gnarly scar when I stitched my own flesh back together while I lay dying in the grass of the arena," I sighed reaching up with my other arm to touch the injury and immediately regretting it. "Maybe I shouldn't have made it out of there Professor Snape. I feel like I left myself behind there. Everything sets me off now. I get so afraid that I cannot even function as a person anymore."

"I believe you have post-traumatic stress," he said, and it looked like he was about to launch into a further explanation of his diagnosis when the curtain was thrown back and their conversation was interrupted by an enraged Harry.

Professor Snape quickly snatched his hand back and stood to face my friend, but I was focused on how his eyes were red and his cheeks still wet from crying. Professor Snape seemed to think Harry was going to hurt me, because he immediately stepped into his path when Harry tried to storm over to the bed.

"What were you guys just talking about?" he shouted at me. "Stitching yourself back together? And Arena? What the hell Hermione?"

I wondered where Ron was and if I should wait for them both to be present when I told this story, but Harry looked too angry for it to wait. I tried once again to sit up, but my wince drew a nasty glare from Professor Snape and I stayed in my supine position looking at Harry.

"I wasn't sick over break," I admitted tiredly.

I quickly explained where I had been, and what had happened watching Harry grow steadily more angry as I spoke. When I reached the end and he was practically foaming at the mouth I wished I had never started speaking.

"And you never thought to mention any of this?" he screeched. "To anyone?"

"I mentioned it to Professor Snape," I pointed out quietly, even though I had already told him that.

"I mean someone who cares about you!" he hollered, and to Professor Snape's credit he didn't even flinch, he just continued to glare at Harry with crossed arms. "You could have died and no one would have even known."

"Stop yelling at me," I shouted back at him, groaning when my wound tugged and tried to tear open.

"Enough," Professor Snape said in an icy voice. "This outburst is causing your friend physical harm. You will leave her bedside immediately so she can rest."

Madam Pomfrey seemed to appear instantly after that. She first shuffled Harry off and gave him some sort of sedative that put him right to sleep in the bed beside Ron. Professor Snape must have told her he would take care of me or something because she did not come to my beside. Instead he handed me a vial labeled dreamless sleep and instructed me to be very cautious moving over the next twenty-four hours as my skin was still knitting itself back together. Then he was gone and I was very alone in the suddenly eerily quiet hospital wing.


	10. Chapter 10

_**Song for this chapter: Without You by One Two**_

* * *

Harry was much less angry when I awoke the next morning, but he seemed to be in some sort of crippling depression that was frankly worse. I eventually came to understand it when I learned that Sirius had not survived the battle. When I tried to think through the fog that was yesterday, I remember vaguely that the mission we had gone on had been about Sirius in the first place.

It appeared that Harry had not told Ron about the arena yet, so I was opting not to mention anything. Instead I was religiously taking the potions that I was being given all throughout the day and attempting to participate in normal conversations as they happened in the hospital wing. Everyone other than Harry and I seemed to have gone back to normal life. I felt on the outside once more, but not entirely alone since Harry was also alienated. It was a strange feeling, not to mention being confused over why he would feel alienated.

The dreadful fight that I knew would be coming when Harry finally told Ron weighed on me heavily. We managed to avoid it all throughout our stay in the hospital wing, and for the three days between our release from the hospital wing and the official end of term. It was the morning of the leaving feast that my luck ran out once more. I tried to ask how Harry was dealing with his grief one too many times and he snapped.

Venom poured out of him in the form of him telling Ron everything I had told him about my experience in the arena. Ron seemed to grow paler and paler, but when the speech ended he did not yell at me like Harry had. He just stared at me, with his mouth working non-productively. I waited for the verdict to come, but he just didn't speak.

The silence seemed to grow too much for Harry as well, and he began to speak once more. He started spilling what must have been the base issue that was upsetting him. Suddenly what Ron thought of what I had done didn't seem to matter as Harry revealed everything the prophecy had said and painted a very bleak picture for the future. He looked to be on the verge of tears when he finished but when I reached out to try and hug him he just pulled away from me.

"Don't you see," he shouted, and though it made me flinch I was at least glad that we were alone in the common room on this sunny afternoon. "I have no choice. I have to be killed, or become a killer."

"It's not the same thing when it's self-defense," I pointed out, echoing the words Professor Snape had said to me. "You wouldn't be a murderer."

"Murder is murder!" he shouted back. "The reason doesn't matter."

"He sort of has a point Hermione," Ron said quietly. "If he were to kill He Who Must Not Be Named it would save the wizarding world, but he would still have to live with the fact that he had killed someone."

"Some who had killed hundreds, maybe thousands," I pushed. "It isn't the same. Intent is important in a situation like this."

"It's still murder," Harry said quietly. "No matter how you slice it, it's wrong, and I don't know if I can do it. I don't think I could live with myself."

"What are you saying," I asked, the breath catching in my chest.

"I'm saying that if I were to become a murderer I don't think I could live with myself," Harry said in a deadly quiet voice. "If someone how I was to kill him instead of him killing me, I think I would still… end it."

"Do you think that's the right answer," I said turning my attention to Ron who was still watching quietly.

"I don't know if there is a right answer," he said thoughtfully. "But I can't say that I wouldn't feel the same way. Being one of the good guys is really all we have in this war, if I didn't have that? I don't know what I'd do."

"So you're saying that anyone who kills in self-defense is a bad guy?" I asked quietly, fighting the burning in my eyes as my heart seemed to whither in my chest.

"It sounds bad when you phrase it that way," Ron said quietly.

"But yes that's what he's saying," Harry spat. "If I were to do this I might as well join the death eaters."

"Well if that's how you see it, I guess I can't really change your mind," I said as calmly as I could over the roaring that had started in my ears. "I for one I don't want to think like this. I'm going to go change for the leaving feast. I'll meet you both down there."

"Yeah, okay," Ron shrugged.

"Whatever," Harry grumbled.

"Goodbye," I forced out as calmly as I could before hurrying up the stairs.

They didn't say goodbye. They probably didn't think they needed too. They expected to see me downstairs at dinner in just a few minutes. They wouldn't though. I could understand the logic in their statements more than they ever would. Murder was murder, and no matter what Professor Snape may have convinced me of when I was feeling particularly vulnerable, I couldn't live with what I had done.

He always seemed to show up when I was feeling particularly emotional, but I had to hope that my location as well as the fact that the feast was about to begin would keep him from coming to me. If perhaps I had a little more time, I might ponder the idea that he could sense when I was emotional, but I didn't have time. My trunk was already packed, but at least it was still sitting at the foot of my bed. I always packed my parchment and quills on top so they wouldn't get bent, so it was only a matter of digging out an inkwell.

I watched an afterschool special with my other once where a young man killed himself, and I remember thinking that leaving a note behind was melodramatic but in this moment I understood the feeling. I wanted to the chance to say goodbye to people I loved, perhaps to help them understand why I couldn't stay any longer. So I inked my quill and I tried to think of the right thing to say. In the end it was simple.

_Mom and Dad, I love you more than life itself. Please do not mourn me but instead find joy in your life, it's what I have always wanted for you._

_Professor Snape, thank you for everything you've done. I'm sorry that I just couldn't believe you._

_Harry and Ron, you're right murder is murder and a person who has killed another is inherently bad. Don't ever lose touch with the light inside of you, the pain would be too much to bear._

That was all I needed. It kept my parents safe, it thanked Professor Snape even though I had been unable to do it in life, and it let anyone who knew me know exactly why I was doing this while keeping my secret from people who shouldn't be allowed to know. It was surprising after all the time I had spent crying, that now in this moment when I was going to finally end it, there were no tears. I felt amazingly calm as I set the note on the top of my closed trunk. I set my wand on top of it, I wouldn't need it where I was going, and I turned my attention to the window across from me.

I had always loved this window. It had a bench seat that had been my companion many nights while I watched the moon climbing across the sky. Now that seat would simple serve as a stepping stone into the next phase of life. I climbed onto the bench, resolutely not thinking of how similar this position was to one I had been in recently, and I pushed open the window.

There was a slight clang as each side of the window tapped the stone wall on the outside of the castle, but I ignored it. Instead I looked down toward the ground. I had never realized quite how high Gryffindor tower was until just now. Strangely, now all I can think about is if it is high enough. Will I die instantly or will it take time? Hopefully not the latter.

I took a moment to close my eyes and take one last deep breath. I brought the old familiar smell of castle deep into my lungs, cherishing it, and then I loosened my hold on the window sill. It allowed me to teeter but I did not immediately fall. It looked like I was actually going to have to jump, so I closed my eyes, and I did.

The air moved quickly against me, and I felt as if I were flying. Without opening my eyes to see the ground rushing up at me I felt almost free. I allowed myself to think strongly about that freedom until the life seemed to slam out of me. It was quick, and painful, but after the quick explosion of fiery agony, there was nothing. Absolute bliss.

* * *

THE END


End file.
